


Rising from the ashes

by VeniViciVetinari



Category: Divergent - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, No war, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-07 14:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 73,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13437258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniViciVetinari/pseuds/VeniViciVetinari
Summary: 20 year old Linna has been on the run since her aptitude test declared her Divergent. When she is captured and given to ruthless Dauntless leader Eric as a slave she thinks her life is over. But not everything is as it seems at Dauntless, and Linna slowly discovers that she is not as alone in this as she thinks.





	1. We are each on our own journey

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> After reading way too many Eric/OC stories I decided to try my hand at one myself. Characters are based on the movie version, but I changed the setting around quite a bit. Choosing is at 18 now, The war happened, Jeanine won, and Divergents have been declared outlaws and slaves. Eric is a faction leader, but was only just going through initiation when the war happened, and wasn't as heavily involved. No simulation serum, Dauntless acted upon request of the Faction leaders.
> 
> There will be a little bit of Four/Tris in this story, but it is mainly focussed on Eric/OC. 
> 
> This story will contain some graphic descriptions which might upset some people, so there'll be warnings at the beginning of the relevant chapters.
> 
> Please read and review, but most importantly: enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer:**  
>  All original Divergent series characters and places belong to Veronica Roth. Everything you don't recognise from the books and/or movies belongs to me. All associated rights reserved. No re-posting to other websites or translations into other languages permitted without my explicit written consent.

We are each on our own journey.

Each of us is on our very own adventure;

encountering all kinds of challenges,

and the choices we make on that adventure will shape us as we go;

these choices will stretch us, test us and push us to our limit;

and our adventure will make us stronger

than we ever knew we could be.

  
Aamnah Akram

 

 

I try not to make a sound as I sneak closer to the Amity compound. Living on the run has given me a certain amount of experience in avoiding detection, but I've rarely come this close to a faction headquarter since I left Candor almost two years ago. My mind drifts back to the day that changed my life and my future forever.

 

\-------------

 

I was born in Candor as Lianna May Durand, eldest daughter of Thomas and Elisa Durand. My parents always told me that names have power, and that they named me after the sun and their favourite month. The month they met during Candor intiation, the month they fell in love, and eventually, the month they got married in. I always loved my name and the little story behind it. Now, I just go by Linna.

Up until the day we were to be tested for our faction aptitudes I had a younger sister and two younger brothers, all of us sharing the same unruly dark brown hair and browns eyes. Where my brothers inherited our fathers darker skin my sister and I are lighter, with freckles and skin that turns lobster red instead of anything resembling a tan. It was always cause for teasing and arguments between the four of us. We were never meek or quiet, and being the eldest meant that I had to be the responsible one most of the time. When I was a teenager I resented my parents for trying to make me a shining example for my siblings. Always honest, always frank, the perfect Candor girl. Never showing hurt about what somebody said about me, simply acknowledging their strength for speaking their perceived truth. I sometimes wished I was an only child with no younger siblings constantly following me around, but now I'd gladly get sun burnt every day for the rest of my life if it meant I could be back with my family again.

When I turned 13 life in our city changed drastically. Erudite's leader, Jeanine Matthews, identified a group of Divergents, people who don't fit into just one faction but have the aptitude for more than one, who were trying to overthrow the government. They were working with a group of factionless, lead by the former wife of one of the Abnegation leaders, Evelyn Eaton. Thanks to Jeanine's insights, the uprising was quashed by the Dauntless faction, Evelyn and her ringleaders executed, and Divergents were declared outlaws. Two factions, Erudite and Dauntless, have gone even further, and taken every Divergent they could identify as slaves for their faction and their members. No point wasting manpower, especially if it has no rights or legal protection anymore.

The aptitude test is at 18 now, and it is no longer a day to look forward to. Of course there are still people who just KNOW where they belong, and for them it's a day that simply confirms it. For the rest of us, it's not a day that will help you find out who you truly are, but a day that will determine if you belong into our society or not. People who receive more than one faction as a result of their test are taken away by Dauntless soldiers, and are rarely seen again. Their families are told to forget them, to pretend they never existed. And at least on the outside they do, because appearing upset about the fate of a Divergent is suspicious in itself. Nobody wants to wake Jeanine's special interest, or the attention of the Dauntless leadership.

 

\-------------

 

I was apprehensive the morning of my test. I knew I was neither kind nor patient enough for Amity or Abnegation. But other than those two I could see myself in any of the three remaining factions. I was curious, always trying to find out how things worked or why they were a certain way. The prospect of discovering something new in Erudite was thrilling. On the other hand, I envied the freedom and strength of Dauntless, the way the carried themselves with pride wherever they went. Keeping the peace and protecting us from threats. And I liked the openness and frankness in Candor. Being honest no matter what requires its own strength and bravery in my opinion. I didn't know where I belonged, and I hoped the test would help me find out.

My test was conducted by a lady in Abnegation grey, and the way she looked at me when I woke up from the simulation made my stomach drop.

"What was my result?" I asked, already dreading the answer and yet unable to stop myself from asking. She didn't answer for a moment, instead clicking intently on the computer. When she turned back to me her face was grim.

"Your results were...inconclusive. You showed aptitude for three factions: Candor, Erudite and Dauntless."

I gasped, tears forming in my eyes. This was the result that everyone dreaded, but only few people received. The verdict that you didn't belong, that you were no part of this city. That you were broken, and subsequently worthless. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I didn't want to disappear. There were so many things I hadn't tried, hadn't done. So many things unsaid, many truths left unspoken. She would report me, and then Dauntless would take me away. To where and to do what, I didn't know. I had heard rumours that Erudite were conducting experiments on Divergents. Experiments that didn't always end well for the people involved. Would they torture me, too? Experiment on me? Kill me?

Before I could lose it completely, I was interrupted by my test conductor. "I know this is a shock for you. And you have every right to be upset. However, we won't have much time if we want to get you out of here before they realise something is wrong."

"Hu?" Was my more than eloquent reply.

The woman from Abengation smiled slightly, got up from her chair and opened a different door than the one I had used to come into the room.

"Follow me, but don't say anything. We have five minutes until the next person is sent in for testing." With those words she started hurrying down a corridor, and after a second of hesitation, I quickly followed her. After a few turns we reached a room looking suspiciously like a storage closet next to a set of double doors. She rummaged for something in the corner, and when she turned around again had a bag in her hand that seemed quite heavy.

"We prepared for a case like this. In here you'll find a blanket and some clothes, a knife, food, water and other supplies. Enough to get you through the first few days. Find a safe place in one of the empty buildings over the city. You can get food from Abnegation, but try to stay away from the Factionless. They've turned in people like you in exchange for supplies and support from the factions. I reported your results as a test malfunction, so they would normally have you tested again tomorrow by a member of another faction. If you disappear today, you might just make it without getting caught."

My mind was reeling, so I focussed on the one thing that seemed to have stuck. "We?" I asked.

A smile ghosted over her lips again, before she replied, "Not all of us agree with the way things are handled in this city now. Not all of us think Divergents don't belong with us." She thrust the bag in my hands, and gave me a push towards the door. "You have to leave now. If I'm not back by the time the next candidate is sent in they'll investigate what was going on with your test." For a moment she looked stern. "Don't go back to your family. That's where they'll look first once the malfunction is being looked into. Don't try to contact them. To make sure all of you are safe you have to disappear. Remember, don't get too close to the headquarters or the Factionless. If you need help, Abnegation will give it if we can. Good luck!"

With those words she had manoeuvred me out of the door and onto the street. "Wait!" I called, before she could close the door again. "Why are you doing this? Who are you?"

The smile she sent me was sad. "I had a daughter like you. She was taken after her test three years ago. My name is Natalie." With those words she shut the door behind her, and I was alone.

 

\-------------

 

At first, I didn't know what to do. I only knew I had to get away from the test centre, from the school buildings, from the factions, so I ran. Away from everything that seemed familiar, as far and as fast as I could. I ran until I couldn't go on anymore. My heart was racing, my breath going too fast. It wasn't that I never exercised in Candor. After all, there were too many classmates around to gleefully point out any perceived flaw in my body. But I was only 5'4, and running had never been my strong suit. The day's events were slowly catching up with me, and I was exhausted.

I didn't recognise any of the derelict buildings around me, and took that as a good sign that I had gone far enough for today. I hadn't been paying attention to where I was running, too focussed on just getting away. I had to get an idea to where I was to make sure I hadn't accidentally ended up right in the Dauntless sector, and so I cautiously entered one of the buildings. It was about ten stories high, and looked to have been an office building of some sort. The staircase still seemed sturdy enough, so I carefully made my way to the highest floor. Taking a moment to listen for the sound of another person around me, I slowly pushed open the heavy door to the roof. I was sure it creaked loud enough to be heard all the way back to the testing centre, but nothing around me moved when I crept through the open door onto the roof.

I stuck some rubble in the doorway to make sure I had a way back, and made my way towards the edge of the roof. It appeared I had gone west. The sun was slowly setting in front of me, and I could see the Erudite headquarter in the distance. A bit further north the Hancock building was towering above it's surrounding area. I thought I recognised some higher Candor buildings as well, but wasn't sure if that wasn't just my imagination. I was safe enough for the night, but still quite close to the Factionless sector. I would have to find a new place tomorrow.

Feeling a little reassured I went about finding a place to stay tonight. The building I was in didn't offer much comfort, but the many rooms connected with each other meant that I could get away quickly if I had to. And it's lack of comfort also meant that other people might pass it over when looking for a place to stay.

When I sat down in the corner of a room on the 6th floor I was shaking. All my adrenaline spent, the day was finally catching up with me. I just about managed to pry open the bag Natalie had given me, and wrap myself in the blanket she had promised. I tried to get more of the stuff out of the bag, to figure out what else she had given me, but my fingers were shaking too badly. When I saw a clear liquid drop onto the bag I realised that I was crying. I couldn't keep it in anymore. I huddled in a corner, my body shaking with sobs, crying for everything I knew I had lost. My family. My friends in Candor. The future I hadn't been able to see for myself. My sobs ceased after a while, but I couldn't seem to stop crying completely. I was tired. And so I simply sat there and watched the light grow dim through the window, tears rolling down my face, until I finally fell into a fitful sleep.

 

\-------------

 

I spent the next year and a half on the run. The first few weeks were the worst. Loneliness and longing for my family almost drove me mad. The challenge of living by myself and making do on my own after eighteen years of a loving family and a faction providing everything I needed. Not knowing where to go for help, how to find food, how to fend for myself.

But I learned. It wasn't easy, and the first winter almost killed me, but I survived. I figured out how to tell if the person offering me food was trustworthy. If the trade offered to me was at a price I was really willing to pay. What kind of buildings make good hiding places, and which areas to avoid to not run into Dauntless patrols. I learned where to go to get food from Abnegation without too many Factionless nearby. When they would hand out the rare medical supplies. I didn't go often and never without at least two escape routes in sight. There was nothing scaring me more than the idea of running into a Dauntless patrol. I didn't stay in the same place for too long, and had some supplies stashed all over the city.

Especially in the beginning I was often tempted to go back to Candor, to send a message to my family to let them know I was alive. But Natalies words were ringing in my ear, and each Dauntless I saw from afar made it clear that going back would be dangerous.

I hadn't had any human interaction in almost two weeks, having steered clear of even the Abnegation handing out food, when I literally stumbled across him. It was January, and the Chicago weather had been particularly bad. The city was already covered in snow and ice, and even my best winter hideouts were freezing. I was desperate for news about what had been going on in the Factions recently, and the best place for that was a small gathering of Factionless in the outskirts of the Erudite and Factionless sector. If I kept my head down and didn't linger too long nobody would take note of me. And maybe I'd even be able to stand close to a fire and warm up for a few minutes.

I was rounding a corner when my foot got caught in something soft, and I fell flat on my face in the snow. Getting up as quickly as possible I turned around to see what had caused my fall.

It was a man, looking to be maybe one or two years older than me, with dark brown hair and the greenest eyes I have ever seen. The clothes he wore were of good quality, but torn, and looked as if he had been wearing them for quite a while. He couldn't have been out in the cold for longer than a few days at most though, with his skin still glowing and his lips not cracked. He had been crouching by the corner, and I had obviously fallen over him.

"Can't you pay attention, you moron!" I snapped, angry at myself for falling and showing weakness.

"Sorry, I didn't expect somebody to come running round the corner. Especially not somebody like you." His voice was like honey, warm and rich, and it took me a moment to remember to be mad at him.

"Tough luck. And you can keep your 'somebody like me' for yourself. I'm not interested." I shot back, ready to turn around and continue with my plans.

"Well, that's too bad. And here I was hoping you could tell me where I might find some food around here? I haven't lived in the Factionless sector for long, and am still learning my way around. I promise I'll leave you alone after that. I'm Magnus." He got up and reached a hand out to me, a hopeful smile on his face. But I hadn't survived on my own for this long by letting a stranger get close enough to touch me. I didn't detect a lie in his words, but my Candort skills might have grown weaker over time. He lowered his hand when he realised I wasn't going to take it.

"I suggest you learn quickly, otherwise winter in this city will kill you." I said brusquely, not willing to sugarcoat things for him. Candor sees no point in making the truth seem prettier than it is. I relented a bit when his face fell. "But I'm on my way to an area where the Factionless meet, you might be able to get something to eat there if Abnegation show up. I can take you, but that's all you will get from me."

The smile that lit his face worked almost as well as the fire I was hoping to get close to. "Thank you very much for your help. That's all I was hoping for."

I nodded, not really sure what to say to this. So I simply turned around and walked towards my destination, always conscious of Magnus walking beside me.

 

\-------------

 

It took another week until I told him my name. He had kept his word that first day and left me alone once we had reached the meeting place. But despite my initial reluctance I couldn't help watching him as he made his way through the throng of people, effortlessly talking and laughing, and even charming some soup from a lady by the fire. I kept seeing him around after that, wandering the streets to try to stay warm, and when winter seemed to take a break for a few days I ran into him again. Again he seemed to be crouching behind a corner, peeking ahead, and I was too focussed on using the milder weather to gather as many supplies as I could to really watch where I was going. This time my fall wasn't softened by snow, instead I managed to land in a massive mud puddle. I didn't snap at him when he offered to help me clean my coat. Instead I accepted his help, told him my name and took him to the Abnegation food handout place I was headed to.

The next time I stumbled upon him four days later in one of my favourite winter hideouts. The weather had turned again, and I knew I had to get out of the cold. Although almost dangerously close to Erudite, my hideout was located in the basement of a large office block, and was secluded, dry and relatively warm. Magnus apologised when I told him in no uncertain terms that this was my spot, but a blizzard was raging outside, and I didn't have the energy to kick him out. So I hesitantly allowed him to stay.

The next morning he left, only to return in the evening with enough Abnegation handouts to last two people for a few days. I had no idea where he got them from during a snow storm, but Abnegation take their commitment to the Factionless serious, and they were probably out and about trying to help as many people as possible.

I could hardly ask him to leave then, and so we sat and talked while another ice storm was making its way across the city. He told me that he had been born Erudite, and had managed to hide his divergence because his aunt, a faction transfer to Candor, had administered and manipulated his test. That he was 22. That he had passed Erudite initiation, but that it had become too dangerous for him to stay. That living outside of a faction scared him senseless. That he was a single child, but had always wished for siblings. That his favourite colour was dark blue. That his favourite subjects at school had been faction history and psychology, and that he had always wanted to study how our society developed. That his father had died shortly after his seventh birthday, but that his mother was still alive.

For most of the second day I let him talk, content to just sit there and listen to him speak. When he asked about my life on the third day, I didn't go into much detail when telling him why I lived factionless. Lying had been hard for me initially when I first ran away, but I had learned how to twist words and leave facts out, and over time even managed to tell a blatant untruth. So I simply told him that I had always suspected my divergence, and that I had run away before they could test me. That my birthday had passed in September and that I was 20 years old now. That both my parents and three siblings lived, but not where. That my favourite colour was dark green, and my favourite subjects had always been maths and computer science.

When he put his arm around me on the fourth day I didn't push him away. Instead, I cuddled up against him, and closed my eyes, properly resting for the first time in months. And when he tried to kiss me later that day, I did not pull away. Candor had always been open about sex, and as a teenager I was encouraged to find out what felt right to me. I knew myself, and I knew sex, and so I wasn't disappointed when our first time was slightly awkward and clumsy, but nonetheless enjoyable. The only thing that initially worried me was the lack of protection, but then he pulled out a little foil packet, and I almost laughed at his preparedness. The second time we slept together was a massive improvement, and I like to think that we got the hang of it by the third time.

I don't know how it happened, but after spending five days with him in my hideout I didn't like the idea of not having him around anymore. Maybe it was the close proximity, or maybe it was the loneliness of the previous months. Whatever it was, I realised that the thought of him leaving caused more pain than the thought of him staying. So I asked him to stay and figure things out together, and luckily, he agreed. I didn't love him then, but my feelings grew stronger with every day we spent together. For the first time since I had to leave everything I knew behind, the future didn't seem so bleak anymore.

 

\-------------

 

And that's why I'm here now, on the outskirts of Amity on a slightly chilly morning at the beginning of April. Magnus has been gone for four days. He said he would go to Amity to find food, and that I should wait for him at one of our safe places. We have almost run out of supplies, and I want to steer clear of Abnegation as much as possible. I heard that Dauntless soldiers have taken to supervise some of their food handouts to the Factionsless, and I don't want to risk running into one of their patrols.

The trip should have taken Magnus a day and a half at best, but he hasn't come back yet. So after the second day I decided to go looking for him. Maybe he's hurt and needs my help? Maybe he got caught? I mocked myself all the way here, because being that focussed on another person is new to me. Nevertheless I am here now, with the Amity main building right in front of me. I already circled the compound the day before, and didn't see a sign of Magnus. I also spent half a day yesterday watching the Amity, trying to figure out where they would keep information in their faction of fields and farming. The only building likely to contain information seems to be the stables which have some sort of office above them. I've seen their leader, Johanna, disappearing in and out of there. I don't know why I want to go to the main building, but something tells me that if Magnus is in trouble that's where I have the best chances of finding out.

I stay quiet, listening intently for any sound that might indicate somebody close to me. It's still early in the morning, and the faction is mostly asleep. I want to be in and out of Johannas office before they awake properly. Having determined that the road is clear I quickly make my way across the open space and slip through the half open door into the stables. Warmth, content chewing sounds and the distinctive smell of horses welcomes me. Despite the pressure I'm under, I can't resist stepping closer to one of the boxes, and tentatively pet the neck of a large grey one. He nudges my hand, trying to figure out if I brought something to eat, but moves back to his hay when he realises I'm a disappointment in this regard. The saying 'there is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man' comes to my mind. Maybe it's also the lack of food and sleep, but I suddenly feel a lot calmer than I did before.

That is until I hear the motors of big trucks roaring closer. I creep back to the stable door and peek out. What I see makes me freeze. Dauntless have come. And not just three or four of them, but two trucks full of soldiers, who are already jumping off and fanning out into the area. One of them makes his way straight towards the doors I am hiding behind. I'm trapped.


	2. A lie and a trap

Wild things recognise stealth for what it is, a lie and a trap.

  
Patrick Rothfuss

\-------------

 

I can feel my heartbeat quicken as I watch the tall, blond Dauntless walk towards me. Before he gets close enough to see me standing behind the door I manage to pull myself together and step away quietly.

I frantically look around me. There are no obvious hiding places, no boxes or anything to crouch behind, and the door at the other end of the stables is too far away for me to make it before he gets here. I can see a ladder ahead of me, but I have a strong suspicion he's already on his way to the Amity leaders office. Besides, I probably wouldn't get to the top without him catching sight of me either.

A snorting sound to my left draws my attention to the horse boxes along both walls. Before I can think too much I open the box of the large grey one, and cower in the corner, scooping some straw and hay over my legs to try and cover myself. Luckily the horse doesn't seem to mind my presence. Instead he shoves his nose right back into the hay net hanging above me, making straw and dust trickle down on me. I don't hide a moment too soon.

The stable doors open, and heavy steps walk down towards the middle of the building. For some reason however, the person stops and starts getting closer to the horse box I'm hiding in. It seems I'm not the only one being drawn to the horses, because whoever just came in is now standing in front of the grey gelding, petting his nose. I hold my breath, willing every muscle in my body to remain still. My heart is beating loud enough in my ears that I'm surprised it doesn't spook the horse and betray me to the person standing two feet away from me.

I dare to breathe again, slowly, when I hear the steps moving away from the box and more towards the middle of the stables. The ladder makes a strange creaking noise as whoever came in climbs it, and then I only hear silence and the noises of the horses again. Faint shouting rings over the compound outside, but for now I'm alone again.

Without making too much noise I get up, fumble open the hatch for the door, and close it behind me. It's only when I want to turn towards the stable door that I realise the Dauntless soldier coming into the stables did not climb the ladder towards the leaders office after all. Instead, he's standing right next to the ladder looking straight at me, a smirk on his face and a gun in his hand. It's not pointed towards me though, and so I make a last desperate dash towards the door. His voice rings clear, cold, and completely devoid of any emotion, "Take one more step and I'll blow your knees off."

I freeze, not daring to take another step.

He walks towards me, chuckling maliciously as he comes closer. "This was almost too easy. Could've made it more of a challenge. I thought Divergents were supposed to be smart." He grabs my left shoulder and roughly turns me towards him. Before I can say anything he grips my neck, using enough pressure to restrict the airflow to my lungs, and pulls me closer. He's sneering at me now, and I can see the pupils in his steel grey eyes dilating. "Or are you one of those freaks that belong to both the Stiffs and these peace-loving banjo strumming junkies?" He curls his lips when he says the word 'peace', as if the mere concept leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

I breath heavily, desperately trying to pull more air into my lungs, and I start clawing at the arm holding me. I don't know how, but I need to get away from him. I need air if I want to survive, and I blindly lash and kick towards him. It's futile though, I only manage to hit his stiff combat vest, and my feeble kicks don't seem to even register with him. Dark spots start to flicker before my eyes, and I desperately lash out, my fingernails finally connecting with his face. I can feel my movements growing more sluggish every second. Just before I think I'll pass out he releases me, forcefully throwing me to the ground. Coughing and gasping for air I try to get up again, determined not to show him any more weakness.

He merely smirks. Towering over me, tall, broad-shouldered and all in black he cuts an intimidating figure. His hair is blond, close-cropped at the sides and a little longer on top. The dark blocks of a tattoo are visible between his collar and strong jawline, running down his neck to the left and right of his trachea. Three faint red lines appear on his left cheek where I scratched him, and I feel satisfaction burning through me. Even though it's early spring he only wears a short-sleeved shirt under a black combat vest, dark trousers and combat boots. There are tattoos on his forearms as well, but my eyes are watering from all the coughing, and I can't see them clearly.

My legs are unsteady as I manage to pull myself upright, still shaking and gulping lungfuls of air. "Does it make you feel good, picking on people smaller than you? Asshole!" I snap, not caring at the moment that it might not be a smart move to piss off this guy if I want to escape.

His smirk widens, "Actually it does. And I think you'll get a lot more chances to make me feel good when Jeanine is through with you." I go rigid at the mentioning of Jeanine Matthews. "Would you like that, little wildcat? The chance to scratch my itches every single day?" His gaze wanders down my body suggestively as he almost whispers the last few words.

"Fuck you." Is all I can say, my mind desperately trying to come up with a way out of this situation, and failing miserably. There is no way in hell I'll overpower him, so I'll have to bide my time and hope for a chance to escape later. He steps closer to me, having holstered his weapon, and grabs my wrists.

Before I have a chance to react he has turned me around and cuffs my hands behind my back. He leans closer and whispers, "Not yet, wildcat, but soon. Very soon. I promise." With this he laughs and gives me a shove between the shoulder blades, and I stumble towards the stable doors.

We make our way across the compound, and my captor starts yelling orders for the remaining soldiers to return to the Dauntless trucks. As he roughly pushes me towards a truck, Magnus' face flashes before my eyes. Wearily I realise that not only do I still have no idea what happened to him, but I also managed to get myself caught by the one faction I've tried to avoid for years.

 

\-------------

 

Guards dressed in blue are waiting as we pull up at the main building of Erudite. I have completely lost track of time, too focused on the intimidating man who sits way too close to me for my comfort. He hasn't stopped touching me since we piled into the truck with the remaining Dauntless soldiers, his knee pressing against mine and his shoulder bumping into me whenever we take a turn. It slowly dawns on me that he might not have been simply messing with me when he told me I'd get more chances to make him feel good. Before I get myself worked up continuing this trail of thought we stop, and my captor pulls me from the vehicle. I glance around, looking for a way out, but Erudite guards are already walking towards us.

"Is that one for Ms. Matthews? We'll take her from here." One of them says, reaching to grab my arm. But the Dauntless who caught me is quicker than the guard, already pulling me back towards his broad chest. "I'll deliver her to Jeanine myself. You can back the fuck off."

The guard looks as if he wants to argue, but my captor is already dragging me past him up the stairs and into the foyer. My window for escape is closing. I try to pull myself free, but his grip on my upper arm only tightens.

"I can walk by myself, you know." I snap. I'd rather face my fate head held high than being dragged towards it like a convict.

Again, that damn smirk appears on his face, and he leans closer to me, "I know you can. But we want to make sure you're walking in the right direction, don't we?"

"You and your Erudite friends lost the right direction a long time ago." I mutter. The smirk vanishes from his face and I can see he is about to reply, when the sound of clicking heels walking towards us stops him. Jeanine Matthews, impeccably dressed in a blue jacket, matching pencil skirt and heels, walks towards us, closely followed by four of her faction's guards. I've never seen her in person, but the faction leaders' faces are familiar to every dependent growing up in Chicago. I realise that the pictures I've seen of her don't do her justice. Her beauty is hard and cold, like that of a diamond, and she carries herself with the confidence and self-assurance of one who knows she holds absolute power.

"Eric." Even her voice is cold and cutting. "You've brought me another one. It seems I was right to hand the task of finding those aberrations to you. Dauntless leadership doesn't disappoint. We've been waiting for her. Was she where we expected her to be?"

I can't help but stare at her when I hear those words. They knew about me? Were expecting me? I thought I had covered my traces well enough to be forgotten. Does this mean that Dauntless showing up at Amity wasn't just a coincidence and bad luck on my part, but a targeted attempt to get a hold of me?

My captor, Eric, chuckles. "Right where he said she'd be."

"What do you mean 'he'? Who are you talking about?" I can't keep quiet. "And I am no aberration! You have no right to do this to me. I'm human, just like the rest of you!"

Jeanine smiles slightly at my words, but other than that doesn't even take note of my outburst. Eric squeezes the arm he holds even tighter, but doesn't answer me either. Instead, he addresses Jeanine again, "This one has fire. I'll take her when you're through with her. I have some use for that smart mouth of hers."

The smile on Jeanine's face doesn't waver as she slowly nods her head. "She probably won't be quite as spirited when we're done. Our current line of testing is a little more...taxing on the participants. But we'll make sure she's fully healed and ready for use by mid May. Would that suit you?"

"Works for me. My assistant will get in touch to agree a pick up time. As always, this has been a pleasure." With these words he gives me a shove towards the Erudite guards who already stepped forward. Two of them grab my arms, and I finally begin to struggle in earnest. With my arms still bound behind my back there is little I can do though, and they have no trouble getting me to follow them. As they drag me towards an elevator I can't help but turn my head and stare at Eric. Did this really happen? Did he just hand me over to be used as a guinea pig by Erudite? And then requested me as his slave once they're through with me? He has the nerve to send me a wink before more guards follow behind me and I can't see him anymore.

 

\-------------

 

I am brought to a room that looks to be set up for an interrogation. My hands are now cuffed to the table in front of me, and I'm sitting perched forward on a very uncomfortable chair. I need to get a grip, to process what happened and start working on finding a way out of here. My situation is bad, but at least nothing indicates that they got Magnus as well. Surely Dauntless wouldn't have gone to Amity twice in two days, and I didn't see him being brought in when they dragged me towards their trucks. If he's free and well I can find him again once I got out of here.

The door opens, and the one person I didn't expect to see walks through it. "Magnus?" For a moment I'm sure my tired brain is just playing a cruel trick on me. But it's him, dressed smartly in blue, hair clean and his green eyes sparkling. "Is that really you? How did they get you? Oh babe, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? What happened?" Words are spilling from my mouth, seemingly without taking the detour over my brain. I realise he's not handcuffed, nor do I see guards accompanying him. "Did you manage to escape? Is there anything we can use to get me away from this table? Can you help me get out of here?" I'm rambling now, my mouth refusing to take note of the increasingly strong hints my brain is trying to send.

"I don't think I can." For the first time, his voice isn't warm and cheerful, but sounds cool and detached. "We wouldn't want more freaks like you running around, threatening our society."

Still my ears and mouth are not following, "What do you mean? What are you talking about? Babe, can you please explain what's going on here?"

"What is going on here, Ms Durand, is that Mr Ellsworth performed the task set to him by Erudite leadership to the highest degree." Jeanine Matthews sounds almost happy as she sweeps into the room, again closely followed by two guards dressed in blue. She is wearing a lab coat now instead of her jacket, and is holding a tablet. "Not only did he manage to find one of the few Divergents who managed to escape detection in the last three years, but he also gained your trust and was able to lure you to a place where we could have you picked up by Dauntless soldiers. Overall I'd say he did extremely well and I'll be glad to recommend him to his superiors within the faction."

I don't even question how she knows my name, because Magnus' eyes light up at her words, and he takes a small bow towards her. "It was an honour being allowed to work with you, Ms Matthews. Please call on me again if my skills can be of assistance to you."

"Magnus?" Part of me still refuses to believe that I've been played. That the one person I trusted, the person I loved, betrayed me. He doesn't even glance at me again before he leaves the room. My one ally and friend is gone.

"Magnus!" I scream, a wave of emotion too strong to decipher crashing over me. "Come back! Don't do this to me! Please, come back. You can't be serious." Tears are streaming down my face, and it feels like something inside my chest is breaking in two. I can't remember ever having felt anything like this, as if my heart had been ripped right from my body, and the gaping wound left wide open.

The cold, clear voice of Jeanine Matthews cuts through the fog of despair that started to cloud my mind, "Oh, he is quite serious, Ms Durand, I can assure you. One of our most promising researchers wouldn't soil himself with a Divergent like you without good reason." She glances down at her tablet, and quickly types something. "Now, I think it's time for you to cease the hysterics. There is a lot of work to do if we want you ready for Mr Coulter by the fifteenth of May. So we better get to it."

A block of ice forms in my stomach at her words. For the very first time sheer terror grips my heart.


	3. Evil begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - This chapter contains implicit and explicit references to torture/pain/rape/non-con. Please do not read if those things trigger you!
> 
> This was the hardest chapter to write so far. It will get better, I promise. But I was never able to resist a good bit of angst... I have the story mapped out, but it's taking me longer than usual to get into a nice writing flow. Reviews keep me going :)

Evil begins when you begin to treat people as things.  
Terry Pratchett

  
\----------

  
I am dragged from my chair by two of the guards, on of them tall, muscular and dark skinned, the other one with screaming red hair, round faced and more chubby than his partner. I almost laugh at the trouble Erudite seem to go through to keep me under control. Surely they must know that it's unnecessary. Seeing Magnus, hearing him speak those words broke something inside me. I have no fight left in me, and it's all I can do to put one foot in front of the other without falling flat on my face. I feel like walking in a state of trance, none of what I feel, hear or see registering in my brain. I am barely aware of the guards walking beside me.

They lead me into a room that looks like the examination room at a doctors' office. Through an empty doorway I can see a small shower room. A middle-aged Erudite woman in a light blue lab coat is waiting, tablet in hand and lips perched.

"The subject was meant to arrive 20 minutes ago. Our testing schedules are tight. Do you think they run themselves?" she snaps. The bigger one of the guards simply shrugs as he uncuffs my hands, "Ms. Matthews had something to discuss with that Dauntless leader. She says to put her into the system and get her ready for the first phase." At this, he and his companion step out of the door, and I can hear the distinct noise of a key turning and the door being locked.

The scientist looks at me with disgust on her face, before she turns towards her tablet again. I still feel numb, defeated, and so very tired. There is nothing I want more than to wake up and realise that this day has just been a bad dream. In fact, that the last two years have been a bad dream, and that I'm actually safe and sound in my bed in Candor.

I hear an impatient snorting sound coming from the woman, and she barks at me, "What are you waiting for? Go and take a shower. There is no need for you to further soil our faction building than you already do." She eyes the clothes on my body with revulsion. "When was the last time you changed those drags? They'll be burned, so just leave them here on the floor and put on what I left next to the sink." With this, she gestures towards the shower room.

I perk up when she insults my clothes. I know they're far from being clean or smelling nice, but that's hardly my fault. It's people like her and her faction that made me an outcast and cut me off from everything. "If my appearance is such an insult to you, maybe you should spend less time being a judgemental bitch and more time ending this nonsense." I say angrily. "It's not my fault I had to live on the streets. I didn't choose to be the way I am. Don't you dare standing there judging me for something you don't even understand."

Instead of reacting to my words she simply reaches into her coat and pulls out something that looks suspiciously like a taser. "I'm sure that Ms. Matthews explained to you that your feelings are of no importance here. We have a schedule to adhere to, and you can either go and take that shower, or I'll shock you, call my colleagues back, and one of them will give you a bath. Would that be preferable to you?"

Her eyes gleam with satisfaction as, after a moment of hesitation, I step towards the shower. I try to stand right next to the bathroom wall so she doesn't have a full on view of my body, but she simply steps directly outside the doorway, and doesn't turn her eyes away from me. Her stare is disconcerting. She doesn't look at me as if she's watching a person, rather like I'm an insect caught under a microscope for her to study. There is no empathy in her stare, only pure scientific curiosity.

I blend her out when I step into the cubicle. The water is pleasantly warm, and I don't think I can even remember when I last had a shower. Showering is one of the amenities I miss the most, even more than I miss sleeping on a soft mattress every night. I tried to wash and keep myself clean as best as I could, but there is only so much you can do without access to a proper bathroom.

The water turns a disgusting brown as I start applying soap from a bottle standing in the shower. I have to rinse my hair three times for the water to run clear, and my skin is turning a shade of pink I haven't seen in a while.

Stepping out of the shower I notice that she must have taken my clothes away, because they are not where I left them on the floor. A shiver runs through me as I can feel her cold, clinical stare on me again. I quickly grab the towel she's pointing towards, and start drying myself. I feel vulnerable, standing here naked in front of a stranger, but at least her complete lack of personal interest makes this feel more like an awkward doctors' visit.

"Get dressed. You've wasted enough of my time with your dilly-dallying." She sounds increasingly impatient, as if I was the one making her life difficult instead of the other way round. Too aware of her taser and waning patience, I grab the clothes she pointed out to me, and put them on as quickly as possible. I don't want to be naked if she calls those guards back. It's not much I get, just a pair of trousers and a long sleeved shirt, both of a thin, almost paper-like quality. No socks, shoes or underwear. My hair is dripping down my back, still wet, and drenching my shirt. I feel cold now, the pleasant warm glow from the shower gone.

She walks back into the main room and raps on the door three times. Suddenly I'm glad about even the thin clothes I'm wearing, because I can hear the key turn, and then the door opens and the two guards are back. "Did she give you any trouble?" The tall one asks, stepping towards me and pulling another pair of handcuffs from his belt. "I heard she isn't as meek as the ones we normally get."

The woman in the lab coat gives a short, sharp laugh. "Well, she tried to give me a lecture about good and evil, but was obedient enough the rest of the time."

Another glance at the tablet. I'm starting to wonder if it has merged with her skin, if Erudite have taken their obsession with innovation and technology that far yet. But as if she can read my mind she suddenly puts the tablet down, and reaches for a syringe neatly arranged on a surgical tray. She steps towards me, and, before I can react, burries the needle deep at the juncture of my neck and right shoulder. Putting the instrument back down on the table she begins drawing up programs and documents on her tablet again. She stares at it quizzically, a satisfied noise escaping her as whatever she was looking for pops up on the screen.

A nod towards the guards. "She's due to start phase one in an hour, so you can take her away for now." With those words the woman turns towards the desk, eyes focussed on the device in her hands, and seemingly already lost in whatever task her faction leader has set her next.

Again I'm being marched through corridors and up an elevator, until we arrive in an alomst circular room. Five steel doors lead away from it, each with a small window cut out of it. The chubby guard types an access code into the pad next to the door right ahead of us. He opens the door and his partner roughly shoves me through it. I stumble, barely able to keep on my feet. I turn, waiting for one of them to uncuff me, but they simply close the door and the noise the lock makes in unmistakeable. I am well and truly trapped.

  
\----------

  
I am not prepared for what happens when the door opens next. Tiredness finally beat me down, and I fell asleep on the thin pallet alongside one of the walls of the cell. The door unlocking is the only warning I get, before it flies open, quick steps walk towards me, and I am flipped and thrown on my belly. The tall guard wastes no time, shoving my trousers down my bottom and legs before I can really comprehend what's going on. My arms are still cuffed in front of me, now effectively trapped underneath my body. When my brain finally catches up, he's already shoving a knee between my thighs to prevent them from closing, and two rough hands are gripping my waist.

I struggle in earnest now, thrashing wildly to get him off me. He grunts when I get in a hit with my elbow, but it can't have done much damage, because the next thing I feel is a searing pain between my legs. He pushes into me roughly, not perturbed at all by the cry of pain that escapes my lips. I throw my head back, desperately trying to somehow hurt him, get him off me, but I only hit his shoulder. He grabs my head with one of his hands, and knocks it against the wall to my left. I am dizzy now, everything getting blurry in front of my eyes, and my struggle weakens. I can feel unconsciousness beckoning for me, but I will myself to stay awake. I bite my lip when he quickens his pace, violently pounding into me, and I feel as if I'm being split in two. He pushes into me for what feels like an eternity, until he suddenly stills and I can hear a long, deep groan.

I lie completely still when he withdraws from me and steps back. I don't want to see him or his partner who I'm sure must be there too, and so I keep my head facing the wall. Something red trickles into my eye, and the throbbing pain in my head tells me that he caused a laceration when he knocked my head against the wall. He doesn't speak, the only thing I hear is the rustling of clothes as he fixes his uniform. I don't move, not even when a second pair of heavy steps moves into the cell, and the distinct sound of a belt buckle being undone rings in my ears.

  
\----------

  
They don't bother dressing me when they're done, and it takes me a while to find the strength to sit up and fix my clothes. A stabbing pain burns between my legs, my head hurts and my vision is still blurry. I'm not sure if the last one is due to the mild concussion I'm sure I have, or because my eyes are filling with tears. I feel dirty. And somehow I don't think that the feeling will simply go away with another shower.

I can't seem to find a position that doesn't hurt. So I opt for uncomfortable instead, sitting with my still bound wrists upon my knees, resting my head against the wall. I blink the tears away that are threatening to fall. I doubt this will be the only thing they'll do to hurt me, and I refuse to break down on the first day. My mother always called me too stubborn for my own good. Maybe I can draw on that stubborness and make it through this with my sanity intact.

My thoughts are drawn back to the conversation between Jeanine Matthews and the Dauntless. She said their current line of testing was "taxing on the participants". I wonder what she meant by that. What are they testing anyway? Divergents are not susceptible to most serums and thus harder to control, a point Erudite didn't tire to make when the Council decided to ban Divergents from the city. Other than our multiple aptitudes I can't think of any other difference between Divergents and 'normal' citizens. Maybe they'll use me to test new medicines they're developing? We learned at school that societies long before ours used to conduct experiments on humans, and my blood runs cold at the thought.

Determined not to work myself into a state of panic for no reason I try to think of something else. But the only thing that comes to my mind is Magnus' face, and I barely manage to lean forward, before I vomit what little was left in my stomach all over the floor. The taste of stomach acid in my mouth makes me gag, and it takes a while before the dry retching subsides. My chest aches, and again I feel the need to cry until I have no tears left in me. I still can't believe he would betray me like that, hand me over to Erudite without a second thought. Even worse, this was his plan all along. He lied to me, he sold me out and walked away without a second thought.

But what hurts most is the knowldge that I let him do it. I allowed myself to be vulnerable, to open up to a person I barely knew, and this is the prize I am now paying for it. I should've known better. It is my own fault that I'm in this situation, my own fault that I did not see the signs. My mind flicks back to those few precious days we spent together during the blizzard, but the memory is tainted. Too late I realise where he got those supplies from. Why his clothes were too nice, his skin too unblemished to have lived on the streets. Why he never seemed as concerned as I to not run into any patrols. His questions about my family make even more sense now. He wasn't trying to get to know me, he was trying to find out who exactly I was.

For a second I can't breathe as I realise Jeanine must know about my family, and there is nothing I can do to protect them. My only hope is that they have already given up on me and moved on with their lives when I didn't return from my test. I doubt it, though. Candor might not be as openly loving and affectionate as Amity, but I never once doubted the strong bonds that connected me with my parents and siblings. Simply by existing I've become a danger to them all.

My self-reproaching session is interrupted by the door unlocking. I freeze when the two guards I'm already familiar with step through, and will myself not to cower when the redhead reaches for my arm to pull me up. Pain shoots through my body at the movement. But it is nothing against the pain that explodes in my head when he pulls his arm back and crashes his fist against my temple. I slump against the wall, and his next hit finds my stomach. All breath leaves my body and I gasp for air. He aims a kick for my stomach, but I manage to turn and he only strikes my hip.

Bracing my back against the wall I kick at him and am rewarded with a grunt and a stumble when my feet connect with his knee. He falls on his side right next to me. I try to make use of the momentum, bring my bound hands around his head and start choking him. My arms hurt and are shaking already. The only things I can hear are his gasps for air and the blood rushing in my ear. I don't even register the quick steps of his partner as he lunges towards me and crashes my head against the wall with force. This time I don't struggle against the darkness dragging me down.

  
\----------

  
When I wake up I can hardly move. Even opening my eyes takes a few tries, and getting myself into an upright position is a struggle. I can't really see through my right eye, and, as I lift my hands gingerly towards it, flinch when I feel how hot, swollen and bruised it is. The rest of my body doesn't fare much better in my assessment. I am bruised all over, no movement that doesn't cause sparks of pain. I gingerly move my fingers, and almost throw up again when I realise that at least two fingers of my left hand are bent backwards, obviously broken.

They didn't come to play this time, and I wonder what else they'll have in store for me. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, I'm terrified of what they could do. I've never been afraid of pain, but I also don't exactly thrive on it. Fear leaves a metallic taste in my mouth. My broken fingers throb, now that I'm aware of them, my head hurts, and and although the rest of my body is merely bruised I'm under no illusion that this can't change.

I notice a bottle of water and an energy bar lying next to my pallet. The vomit has been cleaned off the floor, and brief satisfaction floods through me at the idea of one of those bastards having to clean up after me. I suddenly realise how hungry and thirsty I am. My brain points out briefly that either food or drink could be poisoned, but the rest of my body overrules it, and I am soon wolfing down the too small snack bar. I manage to keep myself from drinking all the water at once, too aware that it might have to last me for a while.

After I finish eating I try to sit still and not move. Assessing my situation properly for the first time, I admit to myself that it doesn't look good. I've only been in Erudite for half a day, and I'm already barely able to move. I have no allies, no one to come looking for me or try to get me out of here. It seems the only way out is to survive whatever Jeanine will throw at me, and try to escape once she has handed me over to Dauntless. If I play nice and bide my time, maybe they'll be less alert and I can sneak away. Only this time I won't stay in the city. The last 24 hours have shown me that there is nothing for me here. If I make it out I'll make my way through the fence and try my luck elsewhere. Anywhere else must be better than here.

I can't let go of thoughts of Magnus, and how he and Jeanine conspired to betray me. There is not much I can do about that now. The only satisfaction I can get is to not let her get to me. She seems like somebody unused to being ignored, and so I can only hurt her if I take no notice of her and don't rise to her bait. And as for him... I was never a violent person, but I want to hurt him. Make him pay for what he did to me. I imagine his face the way mine must be looking right now, swollen and bloody, and a rough sound, a mixture between mirth and despair, escapes my lips.

Freedom is more important than revenge, though. I want out of here, away from this city and its people who don't want me here anyway. Leaving my family behind will be painful, but I'm already used to missing them every day, and surely it can't get any worse than it already is? I'll bide my time and wait and take every opportunity to escape that presents itself. Freedom is what I want. But if I get the chance to hurt Magnus... the cut on my lips stretches painfully as a grim smile flickers over my face.

My thoughts occupied with wild dreams of freedom, I fall asleep again.

  
\----------

  
They have me up and out of the door already before I realise what's going on. This time I'm being escorted by two guards that are new to me, both sharing such an equally dumb expression that I wonder how they made it through Erudite induction in the first place. What they lack for in brains they make up in muscle though, and so I am left with no choice but to follow them.

I'm dragged into a room that is everything I expected a science lab to look like. White walls and floor, cold, white light, and the sound of electronics humming in the air. Computers and tables with sinister looking instruments line the wall, and at the far end a chair with restrains attached to it is sitting in a cone of bright, cold light. The room is already occupied by three people, all of them engrossed in whatever equipment they're working on.

Jeanine Matthews, again in her lab coat and with glasses perched on her nose, straightens from one of the screens and turns towards me.

"Ah, Ms. Durand. I'm so glad you're joining us. I apologise for the delay in commencing with phase two of our experiment, but it is important that we don't continue without having established our data base first."

I have no idea what she is talking about, but her acting so cordially, as if I had agreed to participate in her research on my own, makes me want to scream.

"What are you talking about?" I snap, before I squeeze my lips shut. My plan was to ignore her, to not let her get to me, and now I'm already failing within the first few seconds of her presence.

"What we are trying to achieve, Ms. Durand, is to establish at what point the human body is under too much pain for the mind to ignore. We will put you under a simulation and see what it takes for your mind to pull yourself out on your own." She pauses, blue eyes cold and unfeeling. "Previous experiments didn't end too well for the test subjects, I have to admit, but we are confident that we have identified sufficient triggers to conduct a more thorough line of testing."

Again, a quick glance to the screen in front of her, before she continues, "Thanks to the parameters sent by the chip embedded in your shoulder we have collected enough data that should help us set the triggers accurately. I'm sure you'll feel some discomfort, but that is, after all, rather the point, I'm afraid." She gestures towards the chair and looks at the guards standing behind me. "Now, if we could get her into the chair and connected to the necessary instruments we can finally begin with the next test series."

My heart is pounding wildly in my chest as I'm pushed towards the chair. The relief of my arms no longer being tied together is shortlived, as restraints are fastened around my ankles, wrists, thighs, and shoulders. Electrodes are stuck to my temples and collarbone, their wires connecting to some equipment standing next to me. I cooperated to try and protect my broken fingers, and I scream in pain when a man in a lab coat roughly grabs them and sets them straight again. It hurts bad enough that tears are rolling down my cheeks again, and I silently berate myself for all the crying lately. I didn't want to show her weakness, but it seems she has already found enough pressure points to make me cower.

Jeanine laughs delightedly at something shown on her tablet. "Brilliant. Her reaction to physical pain and discomfort is quite distinct. I think we should be able to clearly distinguish between a serum induced reaction and a reaction to external stimulus." She nods towards another man sitting at a desk. "Please start the simulation. Let's see if this one can help us expand our understanding of the human body."

  
\----------

  
Pain is the only constant over the following weeks. I don't think I can even remember a time when I wasn't hurting, and although I wait for the day when I just get used to it, it never happens. Jeanines tests are as relentless as she promised. I'm put under simulations day after day, and while my mind is occupied my body is broken and bent to pull me out of them again.

Whenever I'm not in a simulation Jeanines taunts ring in my ear, her voice clear and cold. "Remember, Ms. Durand, that you did this to yourself. Nobody will come and save you. Your lover betrayed you. Your society cast you out. Ultimately, this is all you deserve, wouldn't you agree?"

Especially in the beginning she mentions Magnus as often as possible, delighted by my reaction to his name. She even shows me recordings of him going about his day in Erudite, going to work and interacting with colleagues. Though I try to repress it, she can clearly see how he affects me, her instruments monitoring all kinds of data as my body betrays me.

A part of me that has grown stronger over time wants to beg her to leave me alone, to ask her to stop hurting me. But for now sheer stubbornness wins out, and although my throat is raw from all the screaming and my lips are bloody where I bite them I haven't broken yet. I've become good at distinguishing different types of pain though. I can tell the sharp, fresh pain of a broken bone from the dull throbbing of a concussion, the almost mild but relentless burn of overstretched muscle from the deep ache of bruised tissue.

When it gets too much, when I collapse because I can't take it anymore, I am allowed a too short reprieve. My bones are set, my body pumped full of healing serum, and when the bruises fade she starts all over again. I've lost all feeling for time, forever stuck in windowless science labs or cells I have no idea how much time has passed since I was first brought here. Erudite guards come for me at what I assume must be night. But I have no idea what time it is, and they could equally just rape me on their lunch break.

  
\----------

  
Something is different though when I wake up this time. Instead of lying in the corner of my cell I am strapped to a hospital bed. I wait for the usual background noise of pain to set in, but other than a mild burn in my left shoulder I can't feel anything. When I glance down I see an IV needle in the crook of my arm. I can't move around much, but from what I can ascertain my body is in a much better state than it has been in weeks. Even my hair and skin feel clean, a luxury I had almost forgotten about. When the door opens I tense. I want to yell at them to leave me alone. I don't want them to start all over again. I'm not ready for this moment of peace to end just yet.

But I've learned that what I want doesn't matter here, and so I keep quiet when Jeanine Matthews steps into the room. She is not in her lab coat today, but carries the ever-present tablet that Erudite seem so fond of. Their faction would probably break down if you took those tablets away and forced the members to interact with other people in person.

"Ms. Durand, how kind of you to finally join us. I was hoping you'd spare us the expense of using a serum on you to wake you up."

Before, I would've probably responded with a snarky comment or told her in no uncertain terms where she could stick her 'expensive' drug. But the last few weeks have made me cautious, and I enjoy not being in pain too much to risk it for the brief satisfaction of a sarcastic remark. So I stay quiet and rant about how much I hate her in my head instead.

"Your time with us was quite short, and there are further tests we would have liked to perform with you." For a moment she looks genuinely disappointed at the prospect of all the lost research opportunity, but then a satisfied gleam enters her eyes. "However, I'm sure we can come to an agreement with Mr. Coulter about borrowing you for a few extra weeks if need be. For now we have to get you up and ready. Your new owner will pick you up within the hour. And, as I'm sure you're aware, Dauntless leaders are not known for their patience."

I try to comprehend what she's saying, my mind reeling at her words. Is it truely over? Did I make it through her experiments and torture with my sanity intact? I'm waiting for something to tell me that this isn't real, for one of the small cues that always tell me when I'm stuck in a simulation. But nothing stands out, and so I have to assume I'm not under a simulation serum nor am I dreaming. I'm finally getting out of here!

The feeling of elation lasts exactly long enough for my brain to register what she said about Dauntless. Suddenly, I feel ice-cold again.


	4. Never forget what you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, chapter 4 already. Thank you so much everybody who has taken the time to read and review :) This is my first ff, and I'm glad that people seem to enjoy it so far. 
> 
> I'll probably upload a little less frequently from now on. I have the next chapter written up, but nothing after that. Real life is quite demanding at the moment, and I have to do a lot of travelling for work. But for now, please enjoy the next chapter of our story.

Never forget what you are,  
for surely the world will not.  
Make it your strength.  
Then it can never be your weakness.  
Armour yourself in it,  
and it will never be used to hurt you.  
George R. R. Martin

  
\----------

 

  
Jeanine doesn't stay much longer after gleefully telling a nurse to watch me while I shower and get dressed. "Have her brought to my office in twenty minutes. Ms. Durand and I will have a conversation before her new owner arrives."

The nurse loosens the restraints on my wrists and ankles, and just points towards an open door to my left. I can see a sink and shower cubicle, and I almost moan in anticipated pleasure at the prospect of being allowed to take a shower. His eyes watch me dispassionately as I struggle to sit up, and he makes no move to catch me when I stumble on my first few steps towards the bathroom. I manage to catch myself on the wall. My legs are shaking, and I feel a little dizzy, the effort of walking a few metres to another room almost too taxing after weeks of not being able to move around properly.

I don't care about the nurse now standing in the open door of the bathroom when I take off the little clothing I'm allowed to wear. Being naked in front of another person holds no shame or embarrassment for me anymore, not after everything they did. If his only job is to watch me, then he's not dangerous right now, and I don't need to waste energy trying to preserve my non-existing modesty.

The feeling of water on my skin feels heavenly, like the gentle caress of a cloud, even though it's merely lukewarm. The temperature gets my circulation going, and I feel more awake with every minute. There is shampoo, a shower gel and even hair conditioner in the cubicle, and I make full use of all I find. I don't bother hurrying, too engrossed in being allowed to feel something, and so I have to suppress a shout of disappointment when the nurse steps towards the shower and turns the water off.

He doesn't speak as he watches me hastily pat myself dry, and then hands me some clothes. This time I get a pair of plain black underwear with a matching bra, grey sneakers and socks, as well as a pair of faded jeans, shirt and jacket in a glaring orange colour. Even without looking into a mirror I know I must look ridiculous, but orange is the colour allocated to Divergents. It's supposed to make them stand out from their surroundings, and as the only factions keeping Divergent slaves are Erudite and Dauntless I guess it works quite well.

I try to untangle my hair with my fingers, but it's a fruitless exercise. I'm just not sure if I'm ready yet to face whatever they have in store for me now. The nurse seems to realise that I'm stalling, and so he impatiently grabs my arm and pulls me towards the door. I should be used to being manhandled by now, but something about feeling clean and wearing real clothes makes this so much harder to bear. I feel like a real person, rather than an object of science, for the first time in weeks. I have to force myself to meekly fall into step beside him, to not lift my head and look around me, to not do anything that might jeopardise my escape from this horrible place. I don't know what awaits me at Dauntless, but I can't imagine it'll be worse than Erudite.

We step into a large, sparsely decorated office. Everything about the furniture and artwork on the walls screams expensive, and I suspect this must be Jeanine's own office. Her place to retreat to when she gets tired from all the torture and pain she loves to deal out to people. She's standing next to a large, gleaming white desk, and is apparently completely absorbed by whatever she is reading in a dark blue folder.

Jeanine turns when we enter, puts the folder down, and gestures towards a point on the floor in front of her desk. It is just beyond the thick, light blue rug the desk is standing on, and I wince when my knees hit the hard floor as the nurse pushes me down. Too quick for me to react he plunges yet another syringe in my neck, and for a moment I'm convinced it was all just a trick, and that they were just waiting for me to let my guard down a bit before they continued. But for once I don't immediately fall into a new simulation, and I don't feel the sensation I got used to of the serum cursing through my veins. The fact that I've learned to recognise that particular feeling annoys me, as if it'll give Jeanine a subtle hold over me even I'll be long gone.

Another nod for the nurse from Jeanine and he steps out of the room, without having spoken a single word to me the entire time.

 

\----------

 

"Ms. Durand" Jeanine's voice holds none of the joy, excitement and glee that I've come to associate with her in 'scientific mode'. Instead, she's everything a factionleader should be. Cool, calm, collected. She doesn't even hold a tablet, and I'm tempted to ask how I've come to deserve the honour. Instead I bite my lip and stare at the carpet in front of me. My knees hurt, and I really hope I won't have to keep kneeling here for too long.

"I felt it prudent for us to have a conversation before you'll make your way to your new place of work in Dauntless. Despite the display of obedience you're showing me right now, I wanted to remind you of a few facts which might have escaped your notice."

Again I don't react to her words, focusing instead on trying to decide whom I hate more: Magnus for betraying me and handing me over without a second thought, or the guards that came to my cell again and again to rape and beat me. It's a hard decision for various reasons, and one I've tried to make again and again since my first day here. I should probably be paying attention to her words, but I've realised that Jeanine hates few things more than being ignored. This is my only way of taking a little revenge today. She makes a disapproving noise but doesn't approach me. Instead she straightens, her voice taking on the hue of a lecturer.

"You'll be handed over to Dauntless leader Eric Coulter. You'll follow him to Dauntless, where you'll serve as his personal slave until you die, get killed, or Mr. Coulter has no further use for you, in which case my researchers will gladly take you off his hands. Your continued obedience will be ensured not only by the tracker we implanted into your body..." I wince inwardly and have to force myself to remain motionless. I very much want to touch the junction of my neck and shoulder right now. "...but also by the fact that I'm sure you wouldn't want anything to happen to Nicky, Daniel or Leo."

She knows! I bite my cheek hard enough to draw blood. She knows about my family, knows my siblings names, even knows that Nicole HATES her real name and prefers to be called Nicky instead. It never occurred to me that each time she called me by my name she wasn't just telling me that she knew who I was. She was telling me that she knew about them as well. I don't understand what she's trying to get at, though. They might be my family, but being related to a Divergent is not a crime in itself. Jeanine hasn't managed yet to push the Council that far.

"Of course, they are all too young to have had their tests yet. I believe it's Nicky's turn next year? It would be so painful for your parents if she received a result similar to yours."

My head jerks up. This time I can't help but stare at her disbelievingly. Did she really just say that? Did she threaten to manipulate my sister's test results if I don't follow the rules and orders she and her cronies of Dauntless soldiers are giving me? A cruel smile graces her lips, and I can feel satisfaction radiating off her.

"I see we understand each other. Step one toe out of line, Ms. Durand, and I'll make sure your fate is shared by all your siblings. We might even have to get your parents re-tested. After all, it would be highly unusual for two pure members of Candor to produce such degenerated offspring if they didn't have damaged DNA as well."

It feels as if a steel door slams shut in front of me, as if all the air got sucked out of the room at once. My minds is blank, refusing to process the one horrifying truth behind Jeanine's words. She did it. My way out is gone. I can't run away if it means she'll make my family pay for it. The one idea that kept me sane over the last weeks, the one thing I hoped for, my one ray of light is gone. I can feel a sob rising in my throat, and I swallow violently. I try to stare at the carpet again, but my vision is blurred by the tears that start forming in my eyes. My chest feels tight, as if a big hand grabbed hold of me and is slowly squeezing me. But I can't afford to forget about Jeanine still watching my every reaction like a hawk, and so I slowly blink the tears away and try to take deep, calming breaths through my nose.

I want to scream and shout and cry. I want to get up and run as fast as I can. I want to bash Jeanine's head against the wall until the smile disappears from her lips and she can start to understand the pain I feel. I want to break her bones the way she broke mine. The sheer violence of my thoughts surprises me. Hurting another person isn't something I enjoy, but the thought of Jeanine's bloodied and broken body makes me almost giddy with pleasure. Before I can sink deeper into my daydreams of violence, an intercom on Jeanine's desk comes alive.

"Ms. Matthews, Mr. Coulter is here to see you."

"Very well, Mara, send him in."

The door opens and slow, heavy steps enter the room, coming to a halt right next to me.

"Eric, I'm surprised you had time to spare in your busy schedule to pick her up yourself." Jeanine's tone is a touch reproachful, and I can't help but wonder why she thinks she can get away with reprimanding the leader of another faction.

"I didn't want to draw away valuable resources from the extensive patrols your people keep requesting. Besides, I wouldn't trust her not to try anything." He sounds cool and relaxed, completely ignoring the jibe in his direction. I feel almost flattered that he thinks I might be able to escape his soldiers. It seems he doesn't realise yet that I'm broken beyond repair. Something in me yearns to try despite everything Jeanine said, but I suppress the thought quickly. My family are not a prize I'm willing to pay.

"Neither of that would have been a problem had you agreed to the extension of her stay that my people requested." I can't help notice that Jeanine really isn't happy with him. She doesn't even try to hide her irritation.

Her faction members defer to her in everything and cower when she's in a mood. Eric however seems completely unaffected by her, something I haven't seen from anyone before. He simply ignores her jibes and accusations, his voice almost bored when he asks, "Is she ready?"

Jeanine must have pulled herself together, because her cold, professional tone is back. "All her wounds have been healed, and she received a contraceptive shot which will be effective for six months. I'm sure your nurses will be able to help you out after that. She received all the necessary vaccines, and a tracker was implanted into her neck. We've also branded her shoulder with a D, to mark her as a Divergent just in case."

This explains the mild burning pain in my left shoulder I felt when I woke up. I almost forgot about it since it didn't hurt when I took a shower, but that's changing now that I know about it. The branding feels like it's burning a hole through my shirt. Yet another thing she did to me, which I would love to repay her for one day.

"I'm glad to hear Erudite standards still hold. It is a relief for the rest of the city to know you and your people have every eventuality covered." He says it without malice or mockery, but something tells me he meant it as a taunt towards Jeanine and that she knows it. I'm surprised. The leader of the faction of the brave should be no match for the most intelligent person in Chicago, yet he holds his ground against her almost effortlessly. He can't have been born Dauntless, I decide. There is too much of Erudite's arrogant eloquence in his words, too much enjoyment of intellectual banter. He must have come from Erudite, and transferred after his test.

I startle when a black combat boot roughly taps against my leg. "You, get up. Time to go."

My knees feel stiff and my legs are cramping from having to kneel for too long, but I force myself to get up without making a sound. I won't give either of them the satisfaction and admit that I'm in pain. I'm tempted to raise my head and look him straight in the eye, but for now it might be better to play the terrified prisoner.

If I'm being honest with myself, that picture isn't too far off either. Despite all my thoughts of escape and revenge I'm frightened of the man standing next to me. I'm frightened of where he'll take me, what he'll do to me, of what the future holds that he'll set out for me. The only thought that occupied my mind recently was getting out of Erudite. Now that the moment has come I realise that I never thought about what might come next.

I can feel Eric looking at me, searching my face as if he's waiting for something, before he turns to Jeanine again. "Don't worry, I'm sure she'll learn her new place fast enough. Dauntless isn't particularly forgiving. We appreciate your effort to keep our slaves in line, though." Sarcasm is dripping off every word, the smirk on his face making it clear that he thinks whatever Erudite do is either insufficient or unnecessary. "Now, if you'll excuse us, as you like to remind me I have Dauntless leadership duties to attend to. You," A glance in my direction, "Follow me. Don't make me wait."

Eric turns towards the door, and after a moment of hesitation I fall in step behind him. I notice he's dressed the same way as the day when he captured me, all in black, with just a combat vest over a tight black T-shirt. For a moment I feel silly in the garish orange I'm wearing, but I suppress the thought quickly. It's not as if the ridiculous clothes I'm wearing are even remotely my fault.

"My scientists will call on you to allow them to conduct some further tests on her when you can spare her." Jeanine's voice rings after us. A shiver runs down my spine. I don't know Eric or what he has in store for me, but I sincerely hope he'll say no. He stops in the doorway, his broad shoulders almost filling it completely. How have I not realised how much bigger he is than me? "Tell them not to hold their breath." He slowly drags his eyes down my body, a leer on his face. "It'll take some time before I'm through with her."

With this he continues out the door and down the corridor. I follow him, without sparing Jeanine another glance.

  
\----------

  
He sets a quick pace, his long legs carrying him through the building effortlessly, and I have to hurry to keep up with him. He doesn't stop to see if I follow him, too sure of his own strength and the power he holds over me. When we walk past the open door to a science lab I think I hear Magnus' voice, and my body stops in its tracks before my brain can catch up. I stand still and strain my ears to listen. It is really him, his voice holding the same warm honeyed quality that drew me towards him in the first place. Longing and pain curse through me, and for a moment I can hardly breathe.

Before I can figure out what he's saying a hand roughly grabs my wrist, and I am pushed face forward against the wall. I go rigid when a hard body presses against mine, holding my right arm behind me in a vice-like grip. Eric's breath washes over my face when he leans in and hisses, "Consider this your one and only warning. When I tell you to do something I expect you to obey. No hesitation, no questions. My orders are not optional. Do you understand?"

My heart is beating too fast for me to do more than simply nod. His closeness brings back unwanted memories of Erudite's guards, and I wouldn't trust my voice not to break if I spoke to him now. It seems that was enough though, because after a moment he releases my wrist and takes a step back. He starts walking down the corridor again, and this time I follow him without hesitation. I don't want to give him a reason to hurt me, he suddenly seems tense enough as it is.

There are no cars waiting for us when we step out of the building, and for a moment I wonder if we'll walk to wherever the Dauntless headquarters are. Eric however sets off towards the train tracks which run on a slightly elevated embankment next to the large square in front of the Erudite building. I briefly wonder if he has a train commissioned to pick us up, but then I remember how the Dauntless kids used to arrive at and leave school. I loved watching them jump on and off trains, but it was never something I particularly wanted to try to do myself. Now, it seems I won't get a choice.

Eric stops next to the tracks and looks back at me, just as I can hear the sound of a train coming towards us from the distance. "Run!" he says simply and points in the direction the train will be going. I do as he says, falling into a jog next to the track and waiting for the sound of the train to come closer. I jump, and almost fall onto the tracks when his voice growls "Faster!" in my ear, and then the train is upon us. I'm not prepared for the wall of steel that suddenly roars past my shoulder, and for a moment I'm convinced that this is how I'll die. Crushed by the train's wheels or murdered by Eric for failing to obey his command.

Eric pulls ahead of me effortlessly, jumping onto a step on the train carriage and pushing a button to open the door. Before it's even open completely he easily pulls himself into the carriage. His movements are graceful and fluid, no motion hesitant or unsure. He's probably done this thousands of times, and it shows. I push my tired legs faster, grabbing for the same handle Eric used, and try to pull myself up after him. But the wind from the moving train is too strong, and so I simply hang there, unable to move. I can't let go because I'd just fall under the train and die, but my arms feel like jelly and I don't think I have the strength to pull myself into the carriage either.

The train slows down a bit to go round a corner, and for a moment the merciless wind lets up. I take my chance, mobilising energy I didn't even know I had left, and pull myself through the open door. I fall to the floor right next to it, breath going fast and muscles shaking from overexertion. I manage to push myself up into a sitting position. As much as I want to get up to show Eric I'm not weak, my muscles are too tired and the train movement is too much for me to get up without immediately falling over. He seems completely unperturbed, casually leaning against the wall opposite the train door, his body easily balancing every jolt and sway the train makes.

He raises an eyebrow and sneers when he sees how exhausted I am. "That the best you can do? Pathetic. You won't make it in Dauntless if that's all you've got." He makes it sound as if I'm going to Dauntless willingly, as if I chose this path for myself. As if he wasn't the one who got me into this nightmare in the first place.

Before I can stop myself I snap, "I can take whatever you throw at me. Your precious faction doesn't scare me." But even I have to admit that I don't cut the most terrifying figure right now and that the only thing holding me upright is sheer stubbornness. So I'm not surprised when his grin widens and he simply replies, "We'll see about that, little wildcat. We'll see."

He doesn't speak after this, seemingly contented with watching me struggle to stand and fight to keep upright despite the bursts of wind blowing through the open train doors and the jolts of the train as it picks up speed. I try not to squirm under his gaze, the expression in his dark grey eyes indecipherable. Instead I take the opportunity to really look at him for the first time. He's tall, at least 6'2, with broad shoulders and muscles that make him appear even taller. If his eyes didn't hold that cold expression I might call him handsome. His face looks chiselled, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Two microdermals glint over his right eyebrow. Not a blond hair on his head is out of place, despite the strong winds gushing through the carriage.

The black T-Shirt he's wearing stretches around his bulging biceps as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. I can now get a closer look of the tattoos on his forearm. They are not as bold as the blocks adorning his neck, but more like an intricate maze intercepted with what looks like the Dauntless flame, target circles and other symbols I don't recognise. I wonder what they stand for, if they mean something to him or if he just got them to appear even more Dauntless. He wears black combat trousers and combat boots, every bit the perfect soldier representing his faction.

"Like what you see? You'll get to touch me soon, I promise." His mocking voice interrupts me. I hastily look away, not interested in seeing the sneer that must be on his face, and also not liking what he's insinuating. I shouldn't be surprised, he hasn't been exactly subtle about what he wants from me. And though I hate to admit it, I can't see a way out of it for now.

Luckily, he leaves me alone after that. I don't like this meek, deferential me, the one that behaves as if I have lost every will of my own. The old me would never have let a bully walk all over her. In this moment I promise myself to do whatever is necessary to survive. I will find a way out of this mess, not only for myself but for my family as well. I'll do what I must. But this spineless behaviour has to stop.

I don't know how long we've been on the train for when he pushes off the train wall and walks towards the open door. Holding onto the door frame he leans out of the train, the wind tearing at his vest and playing with the careful style of his hair. I wonder if I could get him to fall if I managed to pry the hand next to me off the door. If I caught him in the right moment... But before I finish planning to throw Eric off the train he has pulled himself back in and gives me a knowing look. I flush, convinced that he must have somehow guessed my thoughts correctly.

He smirks again. "Not quite yet, wildcat. You'll have to work a bit harder than that. Better get ready to jump."

"Jump? What do you mean, jump. If you want to kill me at least do it yourself!" I can hardly believe my ears, and as always my mouth runs ahead without waiting for my brain to catch up.

He simply gestures out of the open door. I hold onto the frame with both hands, peering ahead of us, where I can see the roof of a building approaching quickly. "You want me to jump off this train onto a roof?" Even I can hear the panicked hitch in my voice, and so it doesn't surprise me when his smirk widens. "Exactly. And you better make up your mind fast, otherwise I'll simply give you a push and you'll have to hope I do it at the right spot while there's still a roof nearby."

Despite the easy-going tone the threat in his voice is unmistakable. I will have to jump or he'll push me off the train.

The train slows down marginally, and when the flat roof of a building appears next to the carriage I don't think long. I might be tired and afraid and alone, but I'm not ready to die just yet. The future ahead of me might be bleak and uncertain, but I'll face it anyway. I will find a way out of this. And I won't let Jeanine and her cronies win. So I take a few steps back into the carriage, try to gather as much speed as possible and fling myself into the air.

For a moment everything is easy. I feel free, my pulse beating fast, my body almost weightless in the air, wind pushing my hair out of my face.

Then I hit the roof, hard. Jumping off a train isn't something I've ever done before, and nobody in their right mind would have ever called me graceful. I stumble, pain shooting through me as my feet hit the ground and I fall forward. I unwillingly take a somersault, scraping my elbows and knees, and landing face-down on the gravel.

It must have started raining at some point during our train journey, because the roof is wet. A light spring rain is cleaning Chicago's air, and for a moment I'm tempted to just lie there and feel the rain on my skin. It has been too long since I felt anything as gentle as this. But I'm not alone, and this is not the moment to let my guard down. So I push myself up as quickly as I can, brushing off little pieces of gravel, and watch Eric saunter towards me. I didn't see him jump, but he has obviously had a lot more practice than me and probably didn't struggle at all. "When you're quite done lounging around we can finally get inside."

He strides past me, convinced that I'll know what's best for me and follow him. There might have been a time when I would've tried to make a run for it now, but Jeanine's warning about the tracker in my skin and my family is still too freshly ingrained in my memory.

I watch him step onto a ledge which runs almost the entire length of the roof. When I get closer I see that the building we're on forms a square with three other buildings. A gaping hole is in the roof of the building below us, and I can't see anything but darkness beyond it. Dread forms in my stomach when I realise he wouldn't have brought me here just to show me the sights. There must be a way of getting into the Dauntless compound from here, and I am willing to bet it has something to do with the broken roof below us.

Eric turns and gestures for me to join him on the ledge. His movements are self-assured and graceful as always. Is he really not bothered by standing on a roof next to a gaping whole with nothing to hold him should he stumble? I guess Dauntless really are all fearless and crazy, and I shouldn't be surprised that one of their leaders fully lives up to their faction's name. I awkwardly climb onto the ledge, doing my best not to loose my balance and fall into the darkness beyond my feet. He nods towards the black hole. "Jump."

"I'm getting really tired of hearing you say that." I mutter under my breath.

But of course he's too close and too focused on me not to catch what I just said. A mean grin spreads over his face and he takes a deliberately slow, menacing step towards me. "I could help you, but you won't like the outcome if I do." He fakes a lunge in my direction, and before I can overthink it, I jump. I can hear his deep laughter following me all the way down.

I don't scream, my breath caught in my throat and my heart beating too wildly for me to make any sound. I wonder if this is it, if it was his plan all along to kill me, and if he simply enjoyed toying with me beforehand. Then my body hits something yielding and flexible, something that breaks my fall, and I want to laugh with relief. It's a net, I realise. I lie there for a moment, feeling alive and joyful and happy, adrenaline coursing through my body. Only when I see a shadow rapidly falling towards me does it occur to me that of course Eric would jump off the roof right after me. I try to scramble towards the side of the net when he hits it and I'm thrown into the air again.

We bounce up and down, ending up in a heap of arms and legs, with me sprawled half across his chest in the middle of the net. I wait for the inevitable snarky comment, but he simply raises an eyebrow at me and I almost jump off him as if I've been burnt. It's not easy getting off the net with both our weights pulling us towards the middle, but Eric pulls himself towards the side and off it effortlessly. He offers me no help, simply watches as I try to follow him clumsily and almost fall flat on my face again when I finally make it to the edge.

In the usual fashion I'm already becoming familiar with he turns and walks away without sparing a glance to see if I will follow.

We get a lot of glances and open stares as we make our way through the Dauntless compound. I guess we make for a strange pair. Eric tall, confident, practically oozing power and strength. Not a hair out of place despite the train ride and fall we took, face impassive and cold, his piercings and tattoos bold reminders of his faction and status. He walks with the self-assured confidence of one who knows he won't be challenged. This is his faction. He is their leader, and they know better than to cross him.

And then there's me, standing out in the bright orange I'm wearing, much shorter than him and way too thin. The last few weeks have robbed me of any fat or muscle I had left on my body. I don't think I ever cut an intimidating figure, but before this I walked with my back straight and my head held high. I didn't back down from a challenge, and didn't allow others to dictate my will. I'm not sure what happened to this strong, confident version of me. But if Jeanine didn't destroy her, she at least managed to bury her under heaps of pain and memories of torture.

I follow him through a maze of corridors, past steel doors and a huge open cavern filled with the noise of hundreds of people, towards an elevator, that takes us to the tenth level. There are fewer doors up here, and it doesn't look as if too many people come here either. Eric stops in front of a door with the number 16, and punches a code into the terminal next to it. He pushes the door open and steps through, and after taking a deep breath, I follow him.

He holds the door open and waits for me to walk past him, as if he wants to make sure I don't turn around and bolt. There is nothing I'd rather do, but it's not an option. Jeanine made sure of that. Instead, I hold my head high and step into the middle of the room. When I hear the door close behind me I can't shake the feeling of just having been locked in with a dangerous animal.

 

 

 


	5. Stand and fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohoo, a second update in less than 24 hours. I'll be away on a business trip the next two weeks, and have no idea how much time I'll have to write, if I'll have any at all. This chapter however has been ready for some time, and I didn't want to keep it from you.
> 
> As always, enjoy! And remember, reviews make my day :)
> 
> Warning: This chapter is pure smut.

It is better to stand and fight.  
If you run, you'll only die tired.  
Viking saying

  
\--------------

  
I stand in an apartment that I assume is Eric's. It's bigger than I expected it to be, and held in a colour scheme that matches one of Dauntless' leaders. It's as if he decided that colours display weakness, and subsequently banned everything not black, grey or white from his living area. To my left is a dark leather couch next to a large window, a small table, and two bookshelves behind the couch full enough to strengthen my suspicion that he's originally from Erudite. No curtains hide the view out of the window, and no rug, blanket or plant make this space more inviting. The whole place looks clean and tidy, almost too perfect. It's impersonal, as if nobody actually truly lives here.

To my right is a kitchen area behind a counter, a table and three chairs standing in front of it. Somehow I have trouble imagining him doing something so mundane as preparing his own food. Surely Eric, the fearsome dauntless leader, lives on his enemies' fear alone? My brain conjures an image of Eric wearing an apron as he flips pancakes, and I almost chuckle before the reality of my situation hits me again. I don't know how I'm going to go through with this, when apparently I'm going mad already.

Ahead of me a little corridor leads to what I assume must be his bedroom. Suddenly I don't feel like laughing anymore.

My appraisal of his flat is interrupted when he speaks.

"Take your clothes off."

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, before I slowly turn to face him. He went to sit on the couch, seemingly relaxed, long legs stretched ahead of him, arms spread on the back rest. He sneers at me, clearly taking pleasure from the discomfort that my face must be displaying. His piercing glints as he cocks an eyebrow at me.

"I told you before, orders aren't optional." Eric says, his tone cool, flat and almost menacing.  
  
I swallow hard, every fibre of my body screaming at me to hide from this man who now so absolutely and completely rules my life. But I know I have no choice. Running hasn't been an option since Jeanine threatened my family, and I'm tired of it anyway. I will be brave, and I won't show him how terrified I am. I will stand and fight. I may be Divergent, but that means that I can also be Dauntless.

Stripping my jacket off I will my fingers to stop shaking. He's a predator, and he can't sense my weakness. Slipping out of my shoes and taking my socks off, I grab the hem of my shirt when straightening back up and pull it over my head. I drop it next to me and start opening my trousers. I'm sure the way I strip them off is less than graceful, but I couldn't care less. I refuse to make this more enjoyable for him than it already is. I chance a glance at him through the mess of curls on my head. He's watching me, his gaze intense and focussed, the smirk vanished from his face. Now his eyes don't display anything, not even the leering and jeer that I expected. The blankness in them makes me shiver.

Only two more pieces of clothing to go, and I can feel my courage starting to slip. I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, shrugging the straps off my arms. It falls on the growing pile of clothes next to me. Before I lose it completely, I pull my panties down my legs and step out of them. Now I stand in front of him completely naked.

I can feel tears starting to burn behind my eyes, and I can't remember ever having felt so vulnerable. This is different to being naked in front of the Erudite nurse. For him I was just a task to work through, he held no interest in my body. It is also different to being naked in front of Erudite's guards and scientists. They took from me what they wanted, forced my body to accept what they gave me, but never once made me complicit in my own torture. Eric is different, though. He seems to understand that it's harder for me to undress in front of him than if he had simply forced himself on me the second we stepped through the door.

My throat tightens and I swallow. I can't cry, not now and not in front of him. So I ball my hands to fists and take a deep breath. I stand up straight, and look at a point slightly to the left and behind him. I remind myself that my body is nothing I'm ashamed of, and feeling weak because of my nakedness will only give him more power over me. I remind myself that I've survived worse than what will surely follow, and that I will be stronger than he imagined I could be.

"Turn around." He sounds hoarse, not as cocky as he did earlier.

I slowly turn, glad for some reason that the 'D' that was branded into my left shoulder is covered by my hair. He doesn't need the reminder of what I am. He's already well aware of the power he wields over me.

"Come here." His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I force myself forward. Accepting the inevitable is one thing, but to consciously walk towards it is harder than I imagined. Eric keeps staring at me as I make my way across the room to him, his grey eyes darker than minutes before. When I stand a few feet away from him he sits up straighter. "Straddle me." he orders, and the sneer is back in full force. I will my body to move before the hundreds of voices shouting _RUN_  in my head make me break down completely.

I awkwardly climb onto his lap, my back straight and my hands balled to fists on my thighs. I still refuse to look him in the eye, opting for staring at the bookshelf behind him instead. In this position I'm completely spread open for him, no part of my body not accessible to him if he wished to touch it.

I realise again how much bigger he is than me. His shoulders are broad, and although I'm sitting on his lap my head still only reaches as high as his nose. He raises his hand to my face while grabbing me by the waist with the other. He lets his hand travel down my side slowly, his fingertips ghosting down my neck and shoulder, his hand cupping my breast, and his fingernail lightly flicking my nipple. "Look at me." he orders, and it takes all my willpower to face him. Eric's grey eyes are dark with triumph, lust, and something I can't place right now. I can feel his arousal between my legs, and I know it's only a matter of time before the fabric between us will be removed.

I gasp and squeeze my eyes shut when he suddenly and unceremoniously shoves two fingers inside me, stretching me painfully. He chuckles. "Eyes open, love." He probes and stretches me for what feels like forever. When he finally removes his fingers, my back is so straight it's almost painful. I force my eyes open, and see him rub his index and middle finger against his thumb. "You're dry as a bone." His tone is mocking. I feel fury running through me at his words, and I bite my lip so I don't snap at him. It wouldn't change anything, but the fact that he enjoys and mocks my discomfort makes me angry.

He smirks at me and settles both of his hands at my waist. My arms are now effectively trapped under his, and the muscles I can feel playing under his skin make it obvious again that struggling against him would be futile. Even if I knew how to fight, he is much stronger than me, and probably wouldn't even break into sweat if he had to force me into submission. The dark, mace-like tattoos on his forearms stand out against my skin.

"We can do this two ways. And this one time I'll leave the choice up to you." His tone is almost pensive, and I can't stop myself from raising an eyebrow at him. His smirk widens. "I can fuck you right here and now. I can bend you over the table and take what I want. It'll be over fairly quickly, but, I imagine, quite painful for you."

He pauses, and my mind flashes back to my cell in Erudite. Each time those men touched me it felt like an eternity, even if they probably were done with me within minutes, and I sincerely hope his second option will not be worse than his first. And that my face doesn't display the horror I feel.

"Or you play nice and cooperate. You won't deny me, you won't fight me, and I'll make sure you actually enjoy it. But I'll expect more enthusiasm than you simply lying on your back like a goddamn Stiff."

My mind is reeling. Surely he doesn't expect me to just submit to him, to roll over and accept his authority over me? I remember that I've always obeyed him this far, that he has no reason to assume that Jeanine didn't break my spirit along with my bones. I could fight him now. I could scratch him, struggle, try to get a few hits in before he overpowers me. The satisfaction might be shortlived, but it would be there. And I have no reason to believe his words. I know he is a Dauntless leader, and has been tasked by Jeanine to hunt down Divergents. I know he specifically requested me as his slave after he had caught me. None of this makes me inclined to trust him.

But I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of the pain that always seems to follow when I lose. Maybe he wasn't lying? Maybe he means it and will try to make me comfortable, too? Maybe he'll make me forget the nightmare my life has become for a few minutes? It wouldn't change our situation, but at the moment I'm grasping for peace wherever I can find it. Could I do it? Could I not only let him touch me, but reciprocate? Pretend he's someone else and just go with it? Magnus' face flashes before my eyes, uncalled and unwanted, and I know thinking of him would only make this worse.

"I'm not very patient. Choose now, or I'll do it for you." He roughly interrupts my musing.

I take a deep breath. This is my choice, my decision. There weren't many things I got to decide for myself lately. The choice is mine to make, and I will live with the consequences. I decide to risk it. With as much confidence as I can muster I reply: "Then I'll take the second option."

  
\--------------

  
For a moment Eric seems stunned by my answer. Did he expect me to choose pain over pleasure to get it over with faster? He doesn't move, and I lean back from him slightly, convinced he was bluffing and had never planned to stick to his word. But he recovers quickly, and his smirk is back in full force. "That ensnared by my good looks already?" Again, he cocks his eyebrow at me, and this time I don't suppress the snort that escapes me.

"Dauntless aren't the only ones who can be brave." I retort.

His grip on my waist tightens at my words. "Big words for someone so small. Let's see how far that bravery goes, shall we?" With this he leans forward and captures my lips in a kiss.

Nothing about the kiss is gentle. His lips, though surprisingly soft, are bruising, and he doesn't give me much time to get accustomed to him. I gasp when he bites my lower lip, and he takes his chance to slide his tongue into my mouth. He tastes of coffee, and something earthy I can't quite place. His left hand leaves my hip to grasp my neck, and he holds me in place with his hand entangled in my hair. He takes what he wants from me, and suddenly my rage is back in full force. I furiously start kissing him back.

I'll be damned if I let him have the upper hand in this without a fight. My hands find their way to his shoulders of their own accord, and are grasping and pulling his black shirt. I can hear him hum in approval, when I roughly dig my fingers into the nape of his neck, and our teeth clash almost painfully together. He might be stronger than me, but I know he's not immune to me sitting on his lap, and I'll play my advantage whenever I can. Neither of us seems to be willing to back down, our tongues entangling and our movements frantic, but this is something I'm okay with. Fury is easier to fuel into passion than fear.

After what seems like forever we draw apart for some much needed air. His eyes are a dark stormy grey now, and swirling with too many emotions for me to discern. His breath comes fast and hard, and I can feel his quick pulse on his neck under my hands. Despite my equally laboured breathing I count this as a win. Better even, my muscles are no longer as tense as before. There is something to be said about the relaxing effects of kissing, apparently. I can't stop myself. "Nothing smart to say, Dauntless?" I mock, and with a growl he crashes his lips against mine again.

Eric seems even more determined now than before. Something hot pools in my lower belly when his hand leaves my hip to start massaging my breasts. His lips leave mine, and he begins to lick and bite a trail down my neck. I can't stop the moan that escapes my lips when his fingers find my nipple, twisting and tucking in an almost painful way. I move to allow him better access to my neck, and am rewarded with him sucking a particularly enjoyable spot under my left ear. My breath hitches, and heat floods through my veins. His right hand is still in my hair, keeping me anchored against him. He grins against the skin of my neck.

"Was there anything you wanted to say?"

I merely manage to shake my head and pull his face back up to kiss him again. I don't want to hear him speak. I can just about enjoy the feelings he causes in me. He doesn't need to open his mouth to remind me of the reasons I'm touching him in the first place.

His right hand leaves my neck and ghosts down my side again, settling on my thigh. He alternates between drawing slow circles on my skin and grabbing me to draw me even closer to him. His left hand is still busy playing with my breast, and he abandons my mouth to nip and bite the skin of my neck again. He pulls my hair to make me lean back a bit. I don't like not being in control like this, but at the moment it feels good, and I have no say anyway. I gasp when his mouth circles my left nipple.

The feeling of heat in my belly intensifies when he starts sucking on it. Suddenly he bites down lightly, and I mewl from the odd mixture of pleasure and pain. I can feel him grinning against my skin. He soothes the tortured flesh with his tongue, before moving to my other breast. My hands are pulling at the short hair at the nape of his neck, roaming over his shoulders, dipping under the collar of his shirt. I'm sure my nails have left marks on his skin already. And that if he were to touch me now he wouldn't find me quite as dry as before.

Depsite this, I tense and draw back slightly when his right hand starts getting closer to the sensitive skin on my inner thights. But of course he notices and is not in the mood to let me get away with it.

"Remember the deal. No going back now." He murmurs against my skin. I do my best to do as he says, to get my mind back onto that cloud where the only thing I feel is the hot, tingling sensation between my legs. Still, I am extremely focussed on what his hand does, so much that I almost jump off his lap when it finally reaches its goal. It seems he anticipated my reaction though, because his left hand is no longer playing with my breast. Instead it is between my shoulder blades, holding the nape of my neck. The pressure is slight, but the message unmistakable. He won't let me pull away from this.

"Relax. It's too late to pretend you're a good little Stiff anyway."

I'm tempted to remind him that I was born Candor, and that I'm Divergent anyway, but coherent thought is no longer possible when his thumb lightly touches my clit. He starts rubbing slow circles, intertwined with a flicking motion, and the pressure is just enough to make the fire in my belly burn hotter. I want to close my eyes and simply enjoy the sensation, but of course now he seems to remember the order he gave me I don't know how long ago.

"Open your eyes. I want to see you when I allow you to come." he orders.

I want to roll my eyes at him for that comment, but do as he says. Eric is no longer grinning. Now his face bears an intense expression that I can't really interpret. His jaw is taunt, and he seems completely focussed on me. He puts more pressure on my clit and increases the speed of his movements. When he pushes a finger in me this time I don't feel pain, rather a sensation that takes off some of the pressure that has been slowly building in me. He slowly moves his finger in and out of me, keeping his thumb playing with my clit. When he adds a second finger I can't help but push myself towards him. If he wants to see me coming he better do something about it. He stops moving his hand altogether and pulls away. I almost growl at him.

"Not so fast, little wildcat. I'm not sure you've earned it yet." I want to slap the smirk off his face, but decide on a different tactic instead.

He chuckles when my hands start pulling at his belt buckle. I've had enough of him being the one in power, the one dictating how we play this game. He likes to order me around, but I'll show him that I can have him begging me for release just as well. He doesn't seem to mind my sudden assertiveness, instead watches me intently as I deal with the button and zipper on his black jeans. He even helps me, wiggling jeans and boxers down his legs so I can get better access. When his penis is finally free from its confinement he lets out something sounding almost like a sigh.

I waste no time, grabbing his penis with my right hand and starting to rub him slowly and deliberately, whilst pulling his face towards me for another kiss. He seems content letting me set the pace for once, and moans into my mouth as I stroke his dick. My fingers touch the tip, using the drop of liquid shimmering there, spreading it over the head. I close my hand around him again, settling into a steady pace. I don't have much space, with me sitting on his lap, but I manage. I can feel his girth, trying to remember how Magnus felt in my hands, but abandon that trail of thought quickly. Eric is, despite the situation we're in, too dangerous to not pay complete attention to him at all times. He clearly enjoys my touch, he's pushing into my hand, and I decide to take a page out of his book. "Not so fast, Dauntless." I breathe against his lips and take my hand away.

His eyes snap open. I'm not surprised by the roughness of his voice when he growls "Careful. You might not like the outcome of the game you're playing."

He pulls away from me, grips his penis with one hand and my waist with the other, his intent clear. It seems Eric doesn't like to be the victim of his own games, and is done playing. I file this information away for future reference. I follow his unspoken direction and raise onto my knees. He positions himself between my legs and pulls me down roughly.

He doesn't give me much time to adjust to him, instead lifting his hips and pushing into me deeper than I thought possible. I feel so stretched it is almost painful. But, as everything he has done to me so far, it is only almost painful, with the sensation on the whole more pleasurable than not. He grips my hips with both hands now, setting a pace that is steady and allows him maximum control. It seems he didn't enjoy my brief stint of defiance and is determined to prove who truly holds the power here. He lifts me almost effortlessly, meeting me when I move down, and I can feel my toes curl.

I stare into his eyes, his pupils almost fully dilated, as he slowly fucks me. This is different than I imagined he would be. Less wild and frantic, and a lot more controlled. When one of his hands moves back between my legs and starts stroking my clit again, control is the last thing I can think about. He doesn't quicken the pace, his thrusts into me or the strokes on my clit, but I can feel a fire building in me nevertheless. However, it's simply not enough. I need faster movements, more pressure, and the frustration is killing me. A look in Erics face tells me that he knows what he's doing and is enjoying it immensely. His jaw is still clenched, but his eyes betray his amusement at my situation.

I dig my fingers into his neck and shoulders and try to speed up the pace. To no avail. The arm steering my hips is too strong and he seems to know exactly when to withdraw his hand to deprieve me of that delicious pressure. He chuckles lowly as I whimper in frustration. He leans towards me and I can feel his breath hot on my ear. "I can give you what you want. I can get you right there and over the edge. And I'll do it, but only if you ask nicely. If you beg me for it."

My control is too far gone to fully comprehend what he is saying. All I know is that I want his fingers back on me, and finally get relief from the pressure that's building inside me. I should recoil from his arrogant words, another manifestation of his dominance, but I can't bring myself to care. If he wants to hear words to finally allow me release, he'll get them. My pride has taken worse hits than that.

"Please, Eric." I breathe. "Please make me come. Please..."

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?" his amused reply sounds in my ear, and suddenly his hand is back on my clit. He starts thrusting into me in earnest, pushing me back to slightly change our angle. My eyes close of their own accord when he manages to hit a certain spot deep within me. The spot my own fingers somehow never manage to reach. His breathing is more laboured now. He rubs and pinches and flicks my clit, and the pressure building in me is almost too much. I dig my fingers into his shoulders, his neck, his collarbone, wherever I can reach. I need to hold onto something or I'll break.

"Eyes. Open." He manages to press through clenched teeth, and I somehow find the strength to force my eyelids open. His gaze is all I can focus on, and he rubs my clit in an upward motion as he thrusts himself into me. Suddenly it's all too much, all too intense. My blood feels like liquid fire, surging through me. My limbs feel weightless, as if they belong to a completely different person. The dam inside me breaks, and it is all I can do to hold onto his shoulders and convulse around him. He seems to take that as his cue to chase his own release, suddenly slamming into me harder and faster than before, prolonging my orgasm, making me ride out wave after wave.

I can feel his orgasm coming, his movements more frantic and less precise, his breathing hard, his head falling onto my shoulder. He grunts something unintelligible, and pushes me down on him so hard I know I'll have bruises on my hips later. I can feel his release hot inside me, and a long groan spills from his lips. He stills slowly, his hands falling to my hips again. I can still feel him inside me, but less hard and rigid than before.

As I slowly catch my breath again I realise for the first time that he is still almost fully clothed, while I am completely naked. Before I can figure out if this bothers me, he lifts his head off my shoulder.

"Could your little boy toy give you that?" he taunts, clearly talking about Magnus, and my blood runs cold. I didn't want to be reminded of him. Not here, not now, not by Eric. But of course, what just happened between us was another version of his need to assert his power over me, and he won't stop just because his dick is still buried inside me.

I shrug, not willing to let him see how much the mention of a name bothers me, doing my best to seem unaffected. "The blond witch has thrown him in my face often enough. Do you really think I still care or think about him?" I raise my eyebrow at him.

Erics hair is a little tousled, and I can see some red marks on his neck where my nails must have broken the skin. But that damn smirk is back, and his tone is even when he replies. "Careful how you talk about the leader of a faction. One might think you need to be taught respect."

"Respect is earned, not taught." I shoot back, not able to control myself, and his grin widens. He raises his hand to my throat and applies some pressure. Not enough to completely stop the airflow, but enough for me to remember that he could easily do so again.

"Fear, then, if not respect. Tell me, little wildcat, what do you fear?"


	6. Stronger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! My apologies for taking so long with the next chapter, I was on a few business trips that sucked out any joy in writing... I love my job, but sometimes I wish I didn't have to travel as much.
> 
> I have to admit that I feel a little disheartened by the lack of reviews. I'd love to know what you guys think, how else can I get better as a writer? Even if you think my story is utter rubbish, I'm a big girl, I promise I can take it. 
> 
> Anyway, enough whinging. Enjoy the next step on Linna's journey :)
> 
> Warning: Smut ensues.

I am stronger than I am broken.  
Roxanne Gay

\--------------

It takes me a while to figure out where I am when I wake up in Eric's bed for the first time. The blue light of the early morning hours fills the room, giving it an almost dream like quality. I'm alone, though the sound of running water from the adjacent bathroom and the warm sheets next to me tell me that it hasn't been long since Eric got up. I arch my back and enjoy the luxurious feeling of slowly stretching my limbs before snuggling deep into the soft covers again. It's funny how I never realised how much simple pleasure can be taken from lying in a comfortable bed. And while I don't know how long he'll allow me to enjoy it, I'm determined to make the most of it.

Eric has been more lenient with me so far than I thought possible. After unceremoniously shoving me off his lap yesterday he told me to get myself cleaned up and "tidy up the mess in the apartment", before storming out of the flat in full Dauntless leader mode. I didn't know what mess he was referring to, but cleaning an already spotless apartment was a task manageable even in my exhausted, sleep deprived state. When he came back later that night he simply shoved a food container at me, ordering me to eat in a clipped voice. The meal he brought was simple, chicken, rice and some vegetables, but I couldn't even remember when I last had a proper meal, and so I almost moaned with pleasure at the first few bites.

He kept staring at me as I ate, his face impossible to read despite eighteen years of Candor upbringing. I remember apprehension creeping up my back when he told me to take a shower and wait for him in bed. Overly tired as I was from the ordeals of the previous weeks I fell asleep, only waking when he settled under the covers next to me. To my surprise and confusion Eric simply went to sleep, never once even trying to touch me. He must have been extremely tired or done it on purpose to mess with me. Given all the lewd comments he made yesterday I can't think of another reason for him leaving me alone despite having me lying in his bed naked.

The flow of water stops, dragging my mind back to the present. Eric steps out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a loose towel around his hips. Much as I hate to admit it, he is an almost exceptionally beautiful man. The way the towel hangs lowly off his hips and water droplets cling to his six-pack makes something in my gut churn. Judging by the smug expression on his face he knows it too, and is purposefully using it to his own advantage.

"When you're done drooling all over my pillow you can get your ass out of bed and come here. You've spent enough time lazing around."

I want to protest, to tell him that I haven't slept nearly long enough, but his warning about following orders is still fresh in my mind. So I reluctantly start digging myself out of the heap of blankets I was buried under. It seems I'm taking too long for his liking though, because the amusement is gone from his voice when he snarls, "Did I fucking stutter?" and I hastily climb out of bed and walk up to him.

He roughly grips my waist and pulls me towards him, a dull pain radiating when he squeezes the bruises his hands left on me the day before. Suddenly his lips are on mine, demanding and dominant. He grabs my hair, roughly pulling it to allow himself better access to my mouth and neck. I don't like him, I really don't, but when his lips leave mine and start travelling an already familiar path down my neck it's not easy to suppress a sigh. He nips and teases, teeth grazing sensitive skin. He might be a bastard, but he's a skilful one. Heat flashes through me and settles low in my stomach.

His other hand leaves my hip, feather-light touches raising goosebumps on my skin as it travels to the apex of my thighs. I might have enjoyed sex with him last night, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable having to give him free access to my body, and I stiffen when he slips a finger between my folds. His head snaps up, irritation flashing in his eyes before his face settles into a cold, arrogant mask.

"Let me make one thing really clear." He doesn't move his hand away, instead adds a second finger and starts applying pressure to the bundle of nerves between my legs. I want to shift away from him, but find myself trapped between his body and the bed. "Last night wasn't a one-off thing. Your job from now on is to please me, and I don't give a flying fuck if you like it or not. I will touch you wherever I want, I will fuck you whenever I want. If you want to stiffen up and struggle each time, be my guest, but it won't change the outcome."

His grip on my hair tightens and he pulls my head back further. I have no choice but to stare into his eyes, their lack of emotion making shivers run down my spine and all the relaxation I felt moments earlier gone.

"I think we've already established that you don't mind taking what I can give you, so you better make up your mind and drop the attitude. Otherwise I won't play nice anymore and bother making you feel good as well. Are we clear?" He almost snarls the last words.

"Yes." I'm proud that my voice sounds almost even when I say it and doesn't betray the turmoil of emotion I feel. How dare he reprimand me for trying to pull away. It's not as if I'm here willingly, and surely he's not so arrogant to assume that his good looks cancel out everything else he did to me. Just because I enjoyed having sex with him once doesn't mean I want to do it again. It's still my body, whether he thinks he owns it or not, and I should get to decide when I want to be touched.

But even as these thoughts run through my mind I know that I'm deluding myself if I think my opinion carries any weight here. Even if I wasn't his slave, if our society hadn't come up with its twisted new concept of who matters and who doesn't, the fact remains that I'm locked in an apartment with a man who could overpower me blindfolded and with both his hands tied behind his back. Eric will take what he wants from me, and I need to find a way of dealing with it. At least until I'm stronger, until I've figured out a way out of here.

He seems to take my lack of further response as submission, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he crashes his lips to mine again. His hand between my legs continues its work, strong calloused fingers playing with my clit, and I force myself to relax into his touch. If I have to do this I might as well try to get some pleasure out of it. His kisses are rough and intense, every one of them an unspoken challenge I'm more than willing to accept. A satisfied growl rumbles in his chest when I bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Heat pools in my stomach and I find that can enjoy his touch despite my distaste for him. Suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, pushing me back against the bed, and I follow his unspoken command. When I'm fully reclined he drops the towel, standing naked in front of me proud and unashamed. My gaze is instantly drawn to his erection and I swallow to get rid of the sudden dry feeling in my mouth. He smirks at the expression on my face. "Like what you see? We both know how good it can make you feel."

I can't help another dry swallow when he joins me on the bed, towering over me with one knee positioned between my legs and his arms next to my head. "Let's see if we can build on yesterday's performance, shall we, wildcat?"

With that his lips are at my throat again, sucking and teasing, and one of his hands starts playing with my breasts. I involuntarily dig my nails into his shoulder to pull him closer when he starts pinching and pulling a nipple, a moan rolling off my lips. He chuckles, only to grab both my wrists and pull them over my head, holding them tight enough to verge on the edge of pain. "No touching today, wildcat. You'll simply accept what I give you."

His lips leave a burning path down my neck and close around my left nipple, just as his other hand slips between my legs again and starts playing with my clit. He tugs and flicks it, slipping a finger into me just as his teeth lightly bight down on my nipple. Again I can't stop the moan that escapes me, his name on my lips not as foreign as it felt the day before. "Eric, please..."

He simply smirks at that, and switches sides to give my other breast the same attention. He alternates between roughly pumping his finger in and out of me, and teasing my sensitive bundle of nerves, giving it enough attention that I can feel myself becoming wetter every minute, but not enough for me to fall over the edge.

His nips and bites on my breasts send flashes of pleasure to my clit, and I find it impossible to lie still now, writhing under him and straining against the firm grip that holds my hands. I whine in frustration when he pulls his hand back from between my legs, but shut up when he raises his head, his gaze dark with lust, and starts kissing me again. He roughly pushes my knees to the side and positions himself at my entrance, lips fused to mine and his hand still holding my wrists.

He pushes into me with one deep thrust, and like yesterday, doesn't give me time to get used to this feeling of fullness before setting a rough pace. My legs wrap around his waist of their own accord, pulling him deeper and allowing him better access. The rhythm he sets is fast and hard, there is nothing of the controlled pace he started off with the day before. He stops kissing me, instead staring at me with dark, lust-filled eyes, his hair falling into his face. I'm pushed deeper and deeper into the mattress as I meet his thrusts. I can feel my stomach tighten, and I whimper in frustration at my inability to touch him, hold onto him or get him to put just that little bit of extra pressure where I want it most.

But suddenly his hand is on my clit again and I can feel something clenching deep within me. Without further warning my orgasm washes over me, pleasure cursing through my veins and my muscles turning into jelly. His grip on my wrists loosens and he pushes into me more intently now.

Before I comprehend what's happening he withdraws from me, flips me onto my stomach and pulls me back towards him so I'm on my knees. "Keep your ass up." He growls into my ear before he enters me again. One of his hands is in my hair, pulling and making me arch my back, while the other has taken hold of my hip. His thrusts feel more urgent this time, it's all I can do to clench my fists into the sheets of his bed and enjoy the ride. Soon Eric groans and stills, his grip on my hip relentless and bruising, before he almost collapses on top of me.

  
\--------------

  
Eric takes another shower after this, ordering me to join him in a clipped voice. It seems he no longer intends to go easy on me, instead snapping at me whenever I fail to immediately grasp what he wants from me and don't follow his orders to the letter. Luckily the shower is big enough to accommodate both his bulky frame and my much smaller body. Eric doesn't seem interested in touching me now, but his stare is intense and unsettling as he watches me wash our juices off my body.

There's nothing I can do to wash off the bruises he left on me though, neither the smaller ones that are spreading over my neck and collarbone, nor the ones shaped likes his hands that adorn my hips. I catch my reflection in the mirror when I step out of the shower again, and I almost don't recognise the person looking back at me. Brown eyes stand out against the almost unnatural paleness of my skin, result of a long winter and weeks without sunlight in Erudite. The freckles I love so much and which connect me with my siblings are almost invisible now. I'm thin, almost painfully so, and I don't like the way I can see my collarbone stand out. My breasts have kept their size, not exceptionally big but not small either, but I lost a lot of fat and muscle in my body.

His patience seems to wear thin, because he roughly tells me to stop admiring myself and get dressed. In my old life I would have wrinkled my nose in distaste at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as the day before, but now simply being allowed to wear clothes doesn't seem so bad, and so I gladly obey. There's nothing I can do about my hair though, not without a brush and some time on my hands. So I simply let the mess of dark curls hang down my back. Besides, it gives me something to hide behind.

Eric is getting dressed as well. With every piece of dark clothing he seems to put on another piece of his Dauntless leader persona. Gone is any amusement or playfulness, instead his eyes are cold and emotionless, his face impassive, betraying nothing that goes on in his mind. He takes the time to fix his hair, and the soft waves I saw earlier this morning are gone now, slicked back and held in place by too much styling gel.

He checks his watch just as somebody knocks on the door to his flat. I don't move, unsure of what he expects me to do, but it seems this was again not what he wanted, as he snaps impatiently. "What are you waiting for, a fucking invitation? Go and open the door."

The first thing that strikes me about the girl standing in front of me when I hurriedly open the door is how poised and calm she looks. She's wearing a tank top and leggings in the horrible Divergent orange that I hate so much, and and a bruise is fading to a yellowish green on her jaw, but she carries herself with a quiet dignity that I desperately want to achieve for myself, even though I've only just realised it now.

"Mr. Coulter asked for me to come here at seven." Her voice rings clear and almost confident, with none of the cowed servility I would have expected slaves in Dauntless to display. I open the door wider to let her through, but she looks past me at Eric, and only enters when he gives her a curt nod. Eric looks at me, taking in my appearance, before addressing the girl.

"Take her to get some clothes. None of that all orange stuff, I won't have an eyesore like you around. Get her some Dauntless black and have it marked with with Divergent colours. Show her where the shops are and where to get groceries. Once you're done drop her off at my office. Understood?"

Before the girl has even finished her quiet "Yes, sir." his eyes are on me.

"And you, follow her, don't step out of line and do as you're told. I don't think you'd like to get punished on your very first day. Or would you?" He raises an eyebrow at me, and for a second there is some feeling in his eyes, but it's gone too fast for me to be sure what it was. So I simply nod, and follow the girl out of the apartment.

  
\--------------

  
"I'm Tris, I belong to Four. What's your name?" The girl has been quiet as we walked down the corridor and only speaks when we step into a wider hallway.

"I'm Linna. But I don't belong to anyone." Being free from Eric, being allowed to walk somewhere all by myself even if in company of another slave has brought my spirits back. I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. For the first time in weeks I feel a little like myself again.

"In their eyes, you do." Tris gestures towards two Dauntless men walking towards us, and drags me to the side, out of their way. "I know it's hard, being thrown into this and suddenly having lost everything, but if you want to survive you need to know which battles to pick. And defying Eric, challenging his ownership of you where other people can hear you on your first day, believe me, that's not one you want to go for."

I know she's right, that I need to be smart about this, and undermining Eric's authority is anything but. I don't know what he has planned for me, but for now it's much safer for me to be on his good side. Besides, I think there's nothing shameful about admitting when you're beaten, and I've swallowed my pride often enough by now. I'll survive.

Tris walks me through the compound, showing me living and training areas, shops, the mess hall and kitchen, and the terrifying wildness of the Chasm. She points out where Divergents are meant to sit when eating in the mess hall, where we're allowed to go and which areas are off limits. When we walk into the Pit I'm overwhelmed by the sheer size of it, by the constant noise and boundless energy of Dauntless going about their day, despite the early morning hours. She looks at me understandingly, and briefly puts a reassuring hand on my arm.

"I know. It's something different , isn't it? I grew up in Abnegation, and getting used to this chaos has taken me forever."

Tris then takes me shopping. Much to my surprise some shops are open already, but then again nothing makes much sense to me in this faction of the Brave so far. Tris makes sure we get clothes that fit Eric's requirements, black, but easily modified by adding stripes of orange cloth. It'll take me some time to get used to the much more tight fitting styles that are common in Dauntless, but at least I have different sets of clothing now, and I'm not about to complain about that.

I'm surprised how easy it is to talk to Tris, how I feel I can ask her whatever comes into my head. I desperately want to ask about her life. How did she end up here? Was she taken by Erudite first as well? Is she as desperate as me to get out of here, or have time and custom worn her down? But I can't ask these questions as we're walking through the compound, never far away from others who might take an interest in the conversation of two slaves. I wonder if she could be an ally on my quest to escape, but I guess it's too early to see, and my experience with Magnus doesn't make me inclined to trust others easily. Besides, Eric probably chose her for a reason, and I'm certain he didn't pick on of the more rebellious Divergents to show me around.

Far too soon for my liking our little trip is over. I wanted to get to know Tris more, to ask her all kinds of questions about Dauntless, about her life here, about Eric and what to expect of him, and I'm not ready to be back in Eric's presence yet. She seems to sense it, and sends me quick smile as we walk towards the wing where the leadership offices are located.

"Give it time. Hopefully he'll let you out of his sight soon, and we can speak again then. Be patient with yourself, don't pick fights you can't win, and try to remind yourself that whatever happens is out of your control. It's easier that way."

With this, she knocks on a door with Eric's name next to it, opening it when he orders us to enter in a clipped voice. She doesn't go with me, simply gives him a respectful nod through the open door and heads off down the hallway. I want to call out for her, ask her to stay and not leave me here, but know it would be pointless. The door closes behind me and I'm alone with Eric again.

"Took you long enough. Were you too scared to come back to the big bad Dauntless leader? I'm wounded." He raises an eyebrow at me mockingly, and leans back in his office chair.

"I told you before, you don't scare me." One of these days I really need to get over my Candor habit of saying whatever goes through my mind.

"Yes, I remember. We'll have to work on that, won't we?" He pauses briefly to check something on his computer screen, before focussing on me again. I'm by no means used to the intensity of his grey eyes on me, and I have to fight hard not to start squirming under his gaze.

"What do you want from me?" I'm tired of his constant quips and comments, tired of this game he's been playing since he first saw me in Amity.

A grin spreads on his face, and something flashes in his eyes. "You'll find out soon enough, wildcat, believe me." His voice suddenly takes on a businesslike hue, and all playfulness is gone from it. "But for now I want you to go back to my apartment. You'll keep it clean, you'll do laundry, you'll do grocery shopping and you'll cook for me. In short, you'll be my little domestic slave, and if you're a good girl I might even let you sleep in my bed as a reward. How does that sound?"

I'm struggling to keep the sarcasm out of my voice when I reply, "Sounds good, sir." but Eric doesn't seem to notice because he lets it slide without a word.

"The keypad next to the door will respond to your fingerprints, so you don't need a code. I'll be home around eight tonight. Now unless you'd like to show me your appreciation for my leniency..." My face must be displaying what I think about his 'leniency', because he chuckles darkly before he continues. "...I suggest you fuck off and get to work."

  
\--------------

  
The next few days pass in a blur. All things considered, they might have been the least stressful days of my life. Cleaning Eric's flat, preparing meals for him and keeping his things in order isn't particularly taxing, and I find that my biggest problem is fighting off boredom when I'm left alone. Because I only leave the flat to get groceries I haven't been able to go exploring the compound, nor have I seen Tris again nor any of the other Divergent slaves. I didn't mind not having anybody to talk to most days when I was on the run, but back then it was my choice. Now the lack of contact with people is grating on my nerves.

It's different when Eric is around, constantly watching me, detecting every chink in my armour and spotting every moment of weakness when my guard is down. He points out my status as his slave with malicious glee, brings up Magnus at the most inopportune moment, and mocks my lack of strength and overall weakness. Yet he doesn't hit or punish me otherwise, even on the days when he comes back to the apartment visibly stressed and angry. Those nights his touch is more demanding, his movements against me more forceful, but he hasn't truly hurt me so far. I wonder what it is that gets him so riled up, but he doesn't hold with questions and I've learned to keep my mouth shut when he's in a mood.

I'm getting better at accepting his authority over my body, and so far he has failed to break his promise to make me enjoy his touch. I might not have chosen him as my lover, but I enjoy the way he makes me feel, and I don't think there is anything shameful in getting pleasure out of things you can't change anyway.

  
\--------------

  
I wake with a start when somebody roughly yanks my blanket away. Eric is standing next to me with an evil grin on his face, dressed in what I know is his training gear, carelessly dropping the covers next to the bed.

"Rise and shine, wildcat. Time we start working on your stamina."

Usually this sentence is followed by him reaching out for me and dragging his hands down my body, but today he seems to have other plans, and so I sit up and look at him questioningly. I'm not a morning person, and this early he'll have to spell out what he wants from me more clearly.

"Get dressed, you'll join me for a session in the training room."

My brain still isn't following, but luckily my body is used to drive in autopilot in the morning, and so I get out of bed and grab some workout appropriate clothes. I slowly start waking up properly as I follow Eric down the corridors of the compound, and by the time we reach the training room reserved for leadership I'm fully awake. It's a large room with high ceilings, an area for weights, some punching bags, cardio equipment and training mats easily fitting in and still leaving enough space for some tracks surrounding it.

I don't have time to take in my surroundings properly, because he throws a "Move it. And better keep up." at me, and sets off running. I have no choice but to follow him, cursing his longer legs, superior strength and overall fitness before I've even finished the first lap around the room. My breathing goes hard and my sides ache by the third lap, and I'm starting to fall behind by the fourth. Eric merely grins and slows down until he's next to me again.

"That's even more pathetic than I thought. No wonder you were so easy to catch."

I seethe inwardly when I hear that comment, and anger gives me the strength to pull ahead of him. He catches up easily, a smug grin on his face and not even a little out of breath. I've been played, I realise, but keep up the pace anyway. It seems he did me a favour by making me angry, because I manage to keep up with him, even though every muscle in my body screams at me to stop. Eric slows to a walk after the twentieth lap, and I want to fall to the ground and never move again. But that's not what he has planned, apparently, because he simply sets off towards the weights in the far corner, and I will my shaking legs forward. He points at a bar that hangs slightly out of my reach above my head.

"I want to see ten pull-ups, real ones. After that you'll do thirty push-ups and fifty sit-ups. No slacking off, I'll be watching." With this, Eric sets of towards the weights.

I eye the bar suspiciously. I'm not at all sure I can reach it on my own, let alone do a proper pull-up. My first jump fails miserably. Not only do I completely miss the bar, I also botch the landing and fall flat on my face. Eric's amused chuckling rings through the room, and I'm suddenly filled with grim determination. He might have set these tasks in the hope that I will fail, but I'll show him what I'm capable of. I'll just have to find a way to tap into the Dauntless side of me.

My fingers scrape the bar on my second jump, and I manage to grip it on the next one. I soon find out that grabbing the bar was the easy part, because the task of pulling myself up is almost unmanageable. Regular meals have replenished some of my strength, but it's nowhere near enough for what Eric now asks of me.

"You're not leaving this room until you're done with what I set you, so better get on with it." Comes his less than helpful remark, before his next words make me break out in cold sweat. "I don't have time to babysit you all day, so if you're not done by the time I'm through with my workout you'll have to complete it by yourself. And who knows who might come in here when I'm gone."

As much as I want to speak to other people, the idea of having to explain my presence in the leadership training room to another Dauntless leader without Eric here is not one that I enjoy. So I grit my teeth and get on with it. Eric is merciless, letting me know exactly whether he thinks I've done enough or not, and shouting at me to do it again when I fail to meet his expectations. By the time I've completed ten pull-ups to his satisfaction my arms feel like jelly and I've lost track of how often I lost my grip on the bar and fell onto the mat.

Sit-ups seem the better option next, at least that way my arms will be able to regain some strength. Eric has moved onto pull-ups by the time I finish the fifty and try to stretch some of the cramps out of my poor stomach. My middle section feels like it's on fire. Eric of course makes the pull-ups look effortless and easy, bulging muscles in his arms pulling him up in a controlled rhythm, and I feel the childish need to stick my tongue out at him.

My stomach started growling halfway through my sit-up session, and the idea of food makes my mouth water. I just have to get through thirty push-ups, and hopefully he'll let me go then. We used to do push-ups at school in PE, so it's nothing I haven't done before. I push away the memory that I was always terrible at them, and focus on thinking about breakfast instead. Maybe it wasn't such a smart idea to overexert both my arm and core muscles before moving onto push-ups, but it's too late to change that now.

I'm almost proud when I manage the first few without kissing the mat again. My elevation is short-lived though, because Eric seems to have finished whatever he was doing and is now crouching next to me, his hand heavy between my shoulder blades, and pushing down.

"Deeper. I said I wanted to see you do it right."

The weight of his hand pushes me down until the tip of my nose almost touches the mat, and I struggle against it to push myself up again. My arms are shaking, my core is burning, and the only thing keeping me going now is the stubborn determination to not break down in front of him. He's seen me weak too often already, I won't give him more reason to mock me. Eric keeps his hand on me for five more push-ups before straightening up. I expected him to walk off now, to leave me behind as he threatened, but instead he casually leans against a pillar and continues watching me with an infuriating smirk on his face.

Again, he doesn't hold back in telling me if he thinks I didn't do the exercise properly, and I can only collapse onto the mat in a graceless heap when I finally finish. Spots are dancing in front of my eyes, and I have to concentrate hard on not throwing up from sheer exhaustion. I don't even want to imagine how my body will feel like tomorrow, when right now it takes me forever to simply stand up again.

"Well, as much fun as this was, I have work to do, and so do you. I'll be back tonight around seven, you know what to do."

Eric is almost at the door when he finishes speaking, and I hurry after him, not willing to be left behind in this room without him.

  
\--------------

  
The pain is even worse than I imagined the next day, and the fact that Eric makes me go through the whole exercise routine again doesn't help. By the time another week has passed he made me accompany him to the training room every day. I wish I could say I can feel myself become stronger, but I still have to fight every day not to pass out from sheer exhaustion after I finish exercising, and I'm very grateful for the fact that his spotless flat is easy to maintain. I am getting quicker though, and although he still does more than twice the amount of exercise I do, at least I don't have the fear of getting left behind anymore.

Twice already other Dauntless leaders were in the room when Eric made me go through his routine, but they never said anything or questioned my right to be there. I don't delude myself though, I know that the only reason for that is the protection his presence gives me. Although I'm not allowed to speak to anyone but him, I can't help but notice the way people react to him when I follow him through the compound. He gets his fair share of apprehensive glances, fearful stares and sometimes even downright hostile glares. Nobody dares challenging him though, people almost jumping over each other to make sure not to get in his way, and I wonder what he has done to warrant such a reaction. Even the other leaders seemed reluctant to talk to him, the ones I saw sticking to a simple nod in his direction.

Eric is by no means a kind man, he enjoys mocking me and tearing into my insecurities with sharp, insightful comments, he doesn't care about my wishes or feelings and treats me like an object more often than not, but since I came here he hasn't done anything that really scared or hurt me. His threats when he picked me up at Erudite were just words, and even when he gets rough in bed at night he seems extremely conscious of where my boundaries between pain and pleasure lie.

I don't understand the dynamic of Dauntless yet, and I yearn for a chance to speak to Tris again, to ask her all about it. I won't find a way to escape if I don't understand how this faction works, and I'm no step closer to that than the day I arrived.

  
\--------------

  
Eric is in a strange mood when he comes home the next day. He doesn't seem stressed or angry, but there is a tension around his eyes and in his jaw that makes me tread carefully around him. Usually I'd try to avoid him altogether when he is like this, but he came back earlier than expected, and I'm still in the middle of preparing dinner.

Instead of working on his tablet as he would normally do, Eric steps into the kitchen area, leaning against the door frame and watching me work.

"It's Choosing Day tomorrow." He suddenly says. I shrug non-committally, not really sure what he expects me to do with this information.

"You ran away before your own Choosing Day, didn't you? Not particularly brave, that one."

"But smart. I wouldn't have made it to the ceremony anyway, thanks to your precious faction. So I ran." I snap, unhappy with the direction this conversation is taking and unable to keep quiet.

"And how did that work out for you?" The sentence is spoken cold and without any emotion, ripping through my bravado, and laying open what I've been asking myself recently. Still, I'm not about to admit that to him, and so I clench my teeth and continue cutting up vegetables, not giving him the satisfaction of a response.

"You'll participate in Dauntless initiation." The knife in my hand slips, sliding deep into the palm of my hand. I can't help but stare at him in utter shock, and it takes a few seconds before I think to press a paper towel against the wound to stop the blood.

"What?" My brain refuses to come up with a better response.

"You won't become a member, obviously, but I have no need for a slave who can't keep up with this faction. So you'll participate in initiation, you'll go through the same tests as our initiates, and if you pass you get to live. Unlike them though if you fail I won't make you factionless. I'll either kill you myself or give you back to Jeanine, depending on how much she annoys me on that particular day."

I didn't see this coming, too focussed on getting used to a new life and finding my way around, and I have to give Eric credit. He managed to blindside me, give me a false sense of security, and then successfully raise the stakes of our game to a point where I can't afford to loose. With grim determination I realise that I don't intend to.

 

 


	7. The only choices are bad ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented after my whinge at the beginning of last chapter. It really means a lot to me to know that you guys enjoy my story as much as I do. I hope you like what's coming up next, but I'd love to know whether you think I managed to keep Eric in character in the last part.
> 
> I've shamelessly taken a few lines from the movie in this chapter, mainly because I think they work well with the flow and suit the story overall. Everything you don't recognise is simply and truly mine.
> 
> As always: Read, enjoy (and review) :)

Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones,  
but you still have to choose.  
The 12th Doctor

  
\--------

  
After months and years of solitude it feels strange standing among a group of people again. People that are not actively trying to hurt me or torture me, people that don't dictate my life. Though I'm not really a part of this group of transfer initiates, don't share their excitement and enthusiasm for their new faction, I still enjoy the vibe and energy they beam with. More importantly, I enjoy not being the single focus of Eric's attention, though I can feel his eyes linger on me as he takes in the group standing in front of him in the transfer training room.

He has seen them all already when he welcomed them to Dauntless yesterday, at the same spot where we arrived on my first day. Scaring dependents and forcing them to jump off a roof must really appeal to him, because he came back in a great mood last night. In a rare display of loquacity he even told me about how badly they all did, none of them daring to take the first jump until he finally lost his patience and 'volunteered' a girl from Erudite. If the evil gleam in his eye is anything to go by he won't forgive them for what he calls collective cowardice at any point soon. I'm not sure if I'd define it as cowardice to not want to jump into the unknown, but I keep that thought to myself. After all, I stood on that roof once too, and took the leap.

"All right, listen up." I'm startled from my reverie when the man standing next to Eric speaks. He's tall, though not quite as tall as Eric, with dark hair, dark eyes and tanned skin. He is leaner than Eric, but his muscles are no less defined, and he exudes calm and strength. His voice carries, even though he doesn't speak particularly loudly, and the initiates around me fall silent.

"As I said yesterday, my name is Four." My head snaps up. So this is the guy Tris is forced to live with. I don't know what I imagined, but he's not how I would have pictured another slave owner. He seems nice enough, his eyes hold none of the cold cruelty that Eric sometimes displays, but then again, he could be a sadistic psychopath for all I know. I remember the fading bruise on Tris' chin, and promise myself to be careful around him.

"I'll be training you transfer initiates, Lauren will take over the Dauntless born in the other training room. Your training will be split into two stages. The first one will last eight weeks and is purely physical. We'll push your bodies to the breaking point and beyond, to see if you have what it takes to become a protector of this city. The second stage is mental, again breaking point. You'll face your worst fears and conquer them."

I risk a glance at Eric. The malicious smile on his face tells me that he doesn't think we'll be able to do what they'll ask of us, but that he's looking forward to seeing us try and fail anyway. His eyes flash to mine, amusement burning in them, and I hastily look away and listen to Four's speech again.

"You'll take a final test after another four weeks. You'll be trained separately from the Dauntless born during the first stage, but you will be ranked together. Those rankings will determine what kind of job you'll get after initiation. Leadership," He vaguely gestures towards Eric. "security or technology," Here he points to a badge on his jacket, "guarding the fence, patrolling the city, or working in the shops and maintenance around the compound."

"The rankings will also determine which one of you gets cut." Eric's voice is even, but I've known him long enough by now to detect malicious glee behind his words.

"What do you mean, cut?" It's a chubby looking guy who dares ask the question that seems to have stunned the initiates around me. I know the answer already, but I can't bring myself to feel sorry for them. The stakes are a lot higher for me.

The smile in Eric's face spreads as he takes in his initiates, who suddenly seem a lot more subdued than seconds before.

"We only take the fifteen best initiates each year. With twelve Dauntless born and seventeen Transfers that'll leave fourteen of you to become Factionless before initiation is over."

Shocked silence greets his words.

"But...there's eighteen of us now, isn't there? She wasn't with us last night." A girl with long blond hair points out, and suddenly everybody's attention is on me.

"Yeah." - "Where do you suddenly come from?" - "What is she doing here?" - "Who are you guys talking about?" - "What's with the orange stripes?"

I do my best to keep my face a calm mask, looking at Eric for some guidance on what he wants me to do. But of course he has no intention to help me out, simply raising an eyebrow and mouthing 'Tell them' at me. Taking a deep breath and praying that my voice doesn't falter, I keep looking straight at him as I answer.

"My name is Linna, and I'm Divergent. I belong to Eric. He says I have to participate in initiation, otherwise he'll kill me."

Speaking those words, confirming Eric's ownership of me to the outside world for the first time breaks something deep within me. Until now I could pretend it wasn't real, that I was stuck in a bad dream in which Eric and I were the only players. I never had to admit my defeat, my submission to people who were not involved in forcing me into accepting it. I rarely spoke to people when I went shopping for groceries, all the store owners content to charge what I bought to Eric's account without trying to make conversation with me. I wish I was stronger. I wish I could laugh in his face and tell him to do his worst. I wish my convictions could carry me through all this, but I know I'm beaten.

By keeping me away from other people Eric effectively created a bubble for me to live in, and the broken shards it leaves as it bursts cut deep. I can't think about this now though, not here, my situation is too precarious for that. So I shove the feeling of despair into the same dark corner of my mind where my conflicting emotions about enjoying sex with Eric already reside.

The blond girl is the first to recover from the dumbfounded confusion my words cause.

"But that's unfair. There's not enough spaces for normal people, and now we're made to compete with a freak like her as well?"

The smile on Eric's face vanishes instantly, replaced by the cold mask I've come to associate with him in Dauntless leader mode. In slow, measured steps he walks towards the girl who spoke up, not bothering to shove initiates out of the way, assuming correctly that they'll step aside rather than face him. I have to admit that I'm impressed by the way she holds her ground, refusing to take a step back when he's towering over her. She might have made the right choice coming here. Nevertheless she flinches when he bends forward and puts his face right in front of hers. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and Eric's voice carries through the room.

"What's the matter? Afraid you'll be beaten by a slave girl? If that's the case..." He straightens and looks over the group of initiates. His lips curl dismissively, leaving no doubt to his opinion of them all. "...then you better have someone show you the way out now, because we don't waste our time on whinging cowards in this faction." He looks back at her, his tone cold and cutting. "So what's it going to be? If you need somebody to pamper you you've made the wrong choice yesterday."

The girl doesn't respond, opting for staring at her feet instead. Eric glares at her for a few seconds longer, and I inwardly will her to answer him. One thing I've learned is that Eric doesn't like his questions being ignored. Sometimes with him it's better to react somehow, say something rather than stay silent, even if he doesn't like your reply. He can't stand inaction, and the results when he's faced with it are rarely pretty.

"Congratulations, you've just lost points for speaking out of turn and not answering a direct question from your superior before we even started your training. I think helping out the cleaning staff for the next two weeks should teach you some respect."

His eyes flicker to mine, and I know that we both remember when and where he told me I needed to be taught respect. He never made good on his threat to make me fear him, and I wonder if I missed any other signs for what he might have in store for me.

"Anyone else got a problem they'd like to raise with me?" His tone makes it clear that this would be a stupid idea, and suddenly all the other initiates are very busy inspecting the floor in front of their feet. I won't cower in front of him though, and keep my eyes trained on him. His smirk tells me that he didn't miss the challenge I'm sending his way. For now, the only thing I can do is stay strong and fight. I don't have anything against the people around me, but my survival depends on passing initiation, and I will not hold back. I'll have to discover how ruthless I can truly be.

  
\--------

  
By the time I stumble back into Eric's apartment I'm exhausted. My knuckles are raw from the punching bags Four had us work on all morning, my shoulder is bruised thanks to the recoil of the gun were were shooting in the afternoon, and my right hand feels permanently cramped in the position of holding a trigger. I envy the other initiates, none of whom even dared speaking to me after Eric's little power trip this morning. They get to enjoy dinner in the mess hall and have the evening off, I on the other hand had to drag my tired body back here as quickly as possible, too aware that Eric isn't far behind me and will probably not let 'but you made me participate in initiation' count as an excuse for not keeping up with the other tasks he set me. I wonder what it is they do in their free time, whether they'll just fall into bed and sleep, if they'll go roaming about the compound, or discover what it is Dauntless do when they're not working.

Although Four is the one who is officially training us Eric was around all day, offering biting remarks and sarcastic comments, mocking failed attempts, and, in one case, even reducing an initiate to tears. I don't know what made the guy choose Dauntless in the first place, but it's obvious that he's struggling already, and crying in front of Eric has not increased his chances of making it through stage one.

I wish I had time to take a shower, but I settle on splashing my face with some cold water instead. I don't want to overstretch my luck, Eric not singling me out and embarrassing me in front of the initiates during training was already more than I had dared to hope for. It's enough that the blond girl, whom I later learned is from Erudite and called Kira, kept shooting evil looks in my direction all day. I don't doubt that she blames me for getting into trouble with Eric, and that she won't forgive me anytime soon.

Tidying the apartment is a matter of minutes, Eric's almost obsessive need for order never leaving much for me to clean up anyway. In the beginning I hoped to be able to sneak a peak of his work, to look through his documents for anything that might help me escape him, but it quickly dawned on me that this was a lost cause. If Eric brought files and documents with him he made sure I was otherwise occupied as he worked, or he locked them away almost immediately.

I just make my way into the kitchen to get started on dinner, when the door opens and Eric comes in. His good mood seems to have lasted all day, probably because he got to spend it torturing initiates. He's not the whistling type of guy and his face still appears cold and impassive, but there's a certain gleam in his eyes and he carries himself in a relaxed manner that I haven't seen from him before at the end of a working day.

"That was by far the worst class of initiates I've ever seen. Tell me, wildcat, were you afraid the punching bag might hit you back if you went at it too hard? And do you think you score points by missing the target? Next time try to at least hit your neighbour's, how'd that be for a change?"

I bristle at his words. Sure, I was a little apprehensive around the punching bags this morning, not really used to hitting things despite my resolve to do well in training, and it took me a while to figure out how to properly aim a gun. But there were enough initiates who did as bad or even worse than I, and I don't feel I deserve his mockery. By the end of the day I managed to make the punching bag swing, and I hit the centre of my target nine times out of ten.

"We're not all mindless killing machines from the moment we set foot into Dauntless, you know. Some people actually have to get over their humanity first."

I wait for him to react angrily at my inability to keep my mouth shut, for his incessant need to establish his dominance over me to show itself. But Eric simply laughs, a true cheerful laugh, and I'm stunned. I haven't heard him laugh before, and the sound is beautiful.

"And there they are. I was beginning to think Jeanine pulled out your claws."

He comes into the kitchen, every step making him seem more like a predator stalking his prey. His smile darkens and I involuntarily take a step back, bumping against the cupboard. The satisfied gleam in his eyes tells me that this was the reaction he was aiming for, and I want to shake myself for being that easy to scare. He puts his hands next to my head, and suddenly I'm trapped between his body and the kitchen cupboard. A shiver runs down my spine when he leans in, and I feel his breath hot against my ear. "But I prefer it if you use them on me when I fuck you. So I suggest you watch that pretty little mouth of yours before I find something to keep it occupied. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir." I look straight at him as I say this, unwilling to concede more than I have to. I'm not afraid of him, and I think it's time he remembers that. He doesn't seem to mind though, because suddenly his lips are on mine, hot and hungry, and I realise that kissing him is exactly what I need right now. I've always found it easier to deal with my anger towards him by kissing or fucking him instead of talking. I run my hands up his hard body, enjoying the feeling of his abdominal muscles playing under my hands, and celebrating it as a small win when he captures my hands and places them around his shoulders. He rarely likes it when he's not the one calling all the shots, and tonight is no different.

I don't expect him to pause in his exploration of my mouth, much less withdraw from me, and so I blink at him in confusion when he takes a step back. For a second something like disappointment shoots through me, but I bury the feeling quickly. As usual, Eric is unaffected by whatever just happened between us.

"Get started on dinner. I'll have some friends coming over tonight, and I want to eat before they get here."

The news of people coming to visit him throws me. It's weird, but the idea that Eric might have friends never crossed my mind. He doesn't seem the type to trust other people enough to relax around them. He might allow himself to fall asleep next to me, but that's different. I'm not a real person in his eyes, and the difference in strength and power between us is too big for me to become a danger to him. At least for now.

He leaves to take a shower as I prepare dinner. I'm trying to imagine what these friends of his are like, but fail miserably. They could be anything from thugs too dumb to read but ready to agree with everything he says to slightly less powerful version of himself. I doubt he'd surround himself with the same type of sycophant Jeanine seems so fond of, but then again I didn't even think he had friends ten minutes ago.

Apprehension creeps through me as I sit opposite him, picking at my food. Eric seems to like the simple pasta dish I made, but I can't enjoy it. Not when the idea of people coming over makes me anxious. Not when I don't know what he and his visitors have in store for me. Whether he'll expect me to stick around. Whether he'll want me to serve them drinks. I don't like not knowing what I'll face. A piece of broccoli turns to ash in my mouth at the idea that he might hand me over to them, that he might allow them to touch me, or worse, force me to touch them, and I'm sure he must feel the sudden rush of fear coursing through me. But if he does he shows no reaction, instead he finishes his plate and goes to sit on the couch, typing away on his tablet again.

"Clean up if you're done. Watching you poke at a plate of pasta isn't half as entertaining as you seem to think it is."

My plate is still more than half-full, but I'm not hungry anymore. Usually I enjoy washing up because I can let my mind wander freely, but tonight the events of the day and the added stress of Eric's visitors mean that the only thing it conjures up are horrible scenarios that almost all take me back to the cell in Erudite. My heart beats faster, and I force myself to take slow, deep breaths through my nose. Whatever happens, I'll face it and carry on.

Eric looks up as I walk into the living area.

"Go take a shower and wait for me in bed. Leave your clothes in the bathroom, you won't need them anymore tonight."

I turn towards his bedroom, not feeling reassured by his tone that doesn't give anything away.

"Oh and wildcat, I suggest you do as you're told and stay put. You might not like the consequences if I see you out here tonight."

He smirks, before focusing on his work again. Relief floods through me at his words. This doesn't sound as if he had planned for me to feature anywhere in their evening entertainment, and I'll happily stay out of sight. His warning is unnecessary though, I wouldn't have disobeyed him anyway. Too much has happened today and I desperately need some time for myself.

 

\--------

 

But having time for myself is the last thing on my mind when I step out of the bathroom into Eric's bedroom later. The sound of voices carries through the door to the small corridor which leads to the living area. I must have left it ajar when I came in. I don't want to close it now, worried that whoever is out there will notice, and also because I suddenly realise that this gives me the perfect opportunity to listen in on their conversation unnoticed. Standing near the open door naked makes me feel too vulnerable though, so I head back into the bathroom, hoping to grab one of Eric's discarded shirts. I probably couldn't wear it as a dress, but it reaches far enough down my thigh to make me feel covered and I tiptoe towards the crack of the door.

There seem to be two other people in the living room besides Eric, and I curse the angle between wall and door frame that doesn't allow me to see any of them. At least their voices are quite distinct, one of them deep, slow and drawling, the other one more lively and excited.

I'm already so familiar with Eric's cold, rough voice that I think I'd recognise it anywhere. "Get me another one while you're standing there."

"I'm not standing anywhere, I'm sitting right here."

Eric simply snorts. "Yeah, but I'm not getting up in my own apartment to get my own beer if I have you around. Why would I? I outrank both of you."

"How come you never make Marc get beer then?" The guy sounds more petulant than annoyed, and it seems he is already on his way to the kitchen.

"Because I finished second, and you only came third." Comes the deadpan reply of the man with the deep voice, Marc.

"It's been fucking years since initiation, you can't use that against me forever."

"I can and I will, until you beat me in a fight. Or until you beat Eric."

"Oh, ha bloody ha. If I had know it would turn into one of those evenings I'd have thought twice before charming Mister Supreme Leader over here to make time for us."

"If I remember correctly you simply showed up in my office and refused to leave until I agreed to have drinks with you guys. Is that how you made your latest girlfriend go out with you? Show up at her place and refuse to leave?"

"At least I'm not the one making my own secretary cry for letting a friend into my office unannounced."

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. This easy banter is way too normal, too similar from what I've seen between guys my own age, and I suddenly wonder how old Eric is. He is comfortable and confident in his position as a Dauntless leader, but listening to him talking to his friends I realise that he can't be more than a few years older than me.

"She's lucky she still has her job. Which won't be much longer if she keeps up that crying routine." That's the Eric I know.

"So, what's with your new toy? How come we haven't seen her around yet?"

"Yeah man, when I heard you finally got yourself a Divergent, I hoped you might be willing to share. Not really in the spirit of friendship, keeping her all for yourself."

My blood runs cold at that, and I strain my ears to hear Eric's reply. I know he sees me as property, not person, but inwardly I pray that he's too possessive to entertain the idea.

"If I'd known you'd turn bloody sharing-is-caring on me, dumbass, I'd have assigned you to fence duty years ago." Eric's reply is light, but there's a measure of steel in his voice. "Six years in Dauntless, and your Amity is showing. You're a disgrace."

Amused laughter greets his words. It's not the reaction I would have expected before, given the way I've seen people behave around him, but it works for his friends.

"Oh, calm down, man, Scott knows you well enough to know you don't share. But at least tell us something about her. Are you really making her participate in initiation?" So Marc knows about that. I wonder if it's because of his friendship with Eric, or if news travel as fast in this faction as they did in Candor. Probably the latter. The spraying sound of someone spitting out liquid carries through the room. Apparently the guy called Scott didn't know about Eric's new way of toying with me.

"You're doing what? Eric, are you fucking crazy? She'll never make it and then we're back to where we started."

To me this seems a weird way of referring to Eric's life without a slave, but I don't dwell on it. I'm much more interested to hear Eric's opinion on whether I'll pass initiation.

"She'll participate and she'll pass." This level of confidence in my abilities seems almost suspicious. "And if she doesn't, she'll go back to Jeanine, it's as simple as that." That sounds more like what I expected, though I don't like the reference to Jeanine at all. "I think that should be sufficient motivation for her to get her shit together and do well."

"Hey, no reason to run away. It was just a question."

"You spit your fucking beer all over me, I'm grabbing a new shirt. And you're banned from having anything to drink in this apartment ever again."

Eric's voice sounds closer as he speaks the last sentence, and I hurry back into the bathroom as quietly as I can. I pull his shirt over my head and turn on the tap, doing my best to seem innocent and clueless. I splash my face with water again, only to startle when I look up into the mirror and see Eric standing in the door behind me. Somebody that tall should not be able to walk without a sound. He steps up right behind me, pressing his body against mine and covering my hands which are now gripping the sink with his. His eyes don't leave mine as he leans forward and whispers, "Didn't I tell you to wait for me in bed?"

"I... I was thirsty." I curse myself for the way my breath hitches as Eric slowly drags his lips alongside my ear, his breath tickling sensitive skin. He knows what I like too well by now, knows my body and how he can get it to betray me. My pulse is racing already, the thrill of almost getting caught eavesdropping adding to the excitement I feel.

"You were thirsty. And here I thought you might have disobeyed me and were listening to things that don't concern you." His voice is almost a purr now, designed to lull me into a false sense of security. But I know him too by now, know that he's just waiting for an opportunity to strike. Pushing away every little piece of Candor in me I manage to hold his gaze.

"I didn't. I was just thirsty and came here to get a drink." I don't know if I've learned to lie well enough to deceive Eric, but today my luck holds.

"Well, if that's so..." One of his hands leaves mine and grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to crane my neck. He straightens slightly, his voice still a purr, but I can feel the constrained strength of his arm against my throat. "...then you better do as you've been told. I don't want to catch my little wildcat out of bed again."

I manage a nod, my eyes never leaving his. He releases me and steps back, pulling his black T-shirt over his head and throwing it in the hamper. His distaste for clothes or anything lying around is one of the things that make it so easy to clean up after him, as he never leaves a mess behind of any sort. He's already out of the door when I realise that the shirt I was wearing is still lying right next to the sink, in full view of the door. There is no way Eric missed it when he came into the room. He knows I was up to something. Shit.


	8. Discover the strength of your spine

You only really discover the strength of your spine when your back is against the wall.  
James Geary

  
\----------

  
Eric hasn't said anything about me eavesdropping on him, but ever since Marc's and Scott's visit two weeks ago he rarely let me out of his sight. We still work out every morning, meaning I've already been exercising for at least an hour before I go to meet the other initiates in the training room. I'm having lunch with him in his office where he can 'keep an eye on me', and he has taken to come back earlier in the evening, opting to work in the living room while I prepare dinner and work on my other chores. If he has to leave again he makes sure to lock the door behind him. I've tried opening the door after he left, but the pad next to it only returns an unsympathetic "denied" message, and I've spent more than a few minutes cursing him for his paranoia. It may be warranted, but still.

Spending more time with Eric has given me lots of opportunities to watch him, both in his own home and out among other people. I am no closer to figuring him out than I was when I first came to Dauntless, because by now I've see so many sides of him that they make my head spin. There is an entertaining, almost funny side to him when he's truly relaxed, his banter witty and his comments snarky and insightful. I find it less surprising now that Marc and Scott are friends with him, and I wish I got to see this side of him more often.

I'm more familiar with biting remarks about how my technique isn't good enough or how I suck at any given task in initiation. Still, his comments, though cutting and nowhere nice, often hold some hints about how to improve my stance or get stronger or shoot better. Once I figured this out I found it a lot easier to deal with them. Besides, if I got riled up every time he said something aimed to provoke me I'd spend quite a lot of time angry.

I still haven't seen anything that would explain people's almost fearful reaction of him. I watched Eric condemn a man who showed up hungover and ten minutes late for patrol to ten months of fence duty, something I've learned is considered a real punishment because the sheer boredom out there drives Dauntless crazy. The man's face fell in despair when Eric told him to get his stuff and get his ass on the next train, but I can see where Eric was coming from. He has to safeguard the order and safety of this city, and he can't do that if his soldiers don't take their job seriously. Whilst he clearly enjoys the power that comes with his position as Dauntless leader, he is also very much aware of the responsibilities attached to it.

Eric still hasn't done anything to hurt or make me fear him. I try to keep Tris' advice in mind about not challenging him where others might see or hear it, and so far it has worked. Though I can't help but talk back to him from time to time, I get the impression that he finds my comments more amusing than a real threat to his authority. He easily shuts me up when I go too far by kissing or touching me in one of the many delicious ways he is so talented in. He's a generous lover, taking his pleasure and giving me mine in return, and his skillful touch slowly drives away the bad memories of Erudite's guards.

  
\----------

  
"You'll start fighting each other tomorrow, so better don't overdo it tonight."

Despite Fours warning yesterday several initiates sport pale faces this morning, and the group around Kira emits the distinct aroma of stale alcohol. Not her of course, I have no doubt that she was smart enough to know Four wouldn't give us a heads up for no reason, but the group of guys that formed around her, and which I started calling her royal household in my head, definitely look worse for wear.

As for me, my evening plans are not my own, and Eric couldn't have cared less for the effect his seemingly endless need for attention has on my ranking. I spent the evening pressed against in various positions both in the living room and in the bed room, and it was only in the early hours of the morning that he finally relented and we went to sleep. I don't pretend I didn't enjoy every second of it, but I'm tired.

Four and Eric finish whatever discussion they are having, and Four walks up towards the ring.

"First jumper, last jumper, in the ring."

A murmur goes through the group as Mia, the girl Eric threw off the roof on initiation day, and Andrew, a former Candor from the group around Kira, perk up. From what I can see the match shouldn't be that uneven. Mia isn't particularly tall or strong, but Andrew's eyes are bloodshot, and it is obvious that he's still hungover. He more stumbles than walks towards the mat, where Mia is already watching him wearily.

"The rules are easy. You fight each other until one of you can't continue. Giving up is not an option, but once your opponent is out, you will stop fighting them. If I see anyone hitting somebody who is out you will not like the consequences. Are we clear?" Four lets his gaze wander over our group, somehow managing to make it seem like he is talking to each of us individually. I swallow. Somehow I assumed we would be allowed to concede if we couldn't go on, but I guess giving up isn't a Dauntless characteristic.

In the ring, Andrew straightens and a mean glint enters his eyes as he takes in Mia. She seems more uncomfortable with every second that passes. With more speed than I thought he might be capable of given his appearance this morning, Andrew rushes forward and throws a punch directly towards Mia's face. She manages to bring her arms up in time to shield herself, but stumbles back and almost falls over her own feet. Instead of pursuing her, Andrew stops and waits for her to get her balance back. I want to commend him for being a fair fighter, when he opens his mouth to taunt her.

"Come on, little mouse. You can do better than that. Why don't you come closer?"

Mia looks downright terrified now, stuck where she stands, unwilling or unable to move.

"Aww, trust me. If you come closer I'll be nice and it'll all be over soon."

With this Andrew lunges towards her, his foot kicking against her knee, and his elbow finding her jaw. Mia cries out and tries to hit him back, but he has already stepped around her, brought his arms around her falling figure and is forcing her into a choke-hold. Her fingers scratch his arms feebly, and her breath goes harder with each second that passes. Too soon she stops moving altogether, and Andrew simply drops her where he stands. From the corner of my eye I can see Eric shake his head in disgust, presumably at the lack of a fight that Mia displayed. I vow to myself to myself to do better than that, no matter who they pair me with.

"Winner of the first fight: Andrew. Well done. Sano, Liam, you're up."

The next fight should be more interesting. As far as I've seen, Sano is the best fighter within the transfer group. He was born Amity, but might as well have come from Dauntless, taking to his new faction like a fish to water. He is tall, well built, and fast, comfortable shooting whichever gun Four gives us to practice with, and easily replicating all the attack and defense moves we are shown. Technically, Liam shouldn't hold a chance against him, but he is fast, with a lean strength, and from what I've seen confident enough to not cower as Mia just did. Again, the match seems to be quite balanced to me.

Two other initiates carry Mia off the mat and she stirs again as Sano and Liam start circling each other. Their stance is quite different from what we just saw, both more alert, bodies taut and fists raised in the defensive position Four taught us. The fight goes on for longer than I expected, but ultimately Sano is victorious and helps dragging a bleeding Liam towards the medical bay to get a nurse to look at his broken nose and ribs.

"Next fight, Linna against Jason."

This is it. A trickle of sweat rolls down my spine, but I swallow the feeling of apprehension that threatens to seep into me. The first two rounds today made it clear that showing fear would only go badly for me, and I'm determined to win my first fight. Jason is bigger than me, but I've watched him move. He doesn't seem comfortable in his body, as if he's not used to his size, his movements clumsy and almost sluggish. I sincerely hope that wasn't just an act, but in a fair fight I'm sure I can beat him. I just have to be quick about it and use my size to my advantage.

Jason seems hesitant as we step onto the mat. I almost feel bad. He's one of the few initiates who has been nothing but decent to me so far, never sneering at me or mocking my status as Eric's slave. He seems kind, and I'd rather fight someone I don't like, but I have no choice. My life depends on winning this fight and keeping my ranking above the magical line of twenty. Everybody below that number in ranking will be gone after the first phase.

We both just stand there, unsure of how to begin, and both reluctant to take the first step. For all my bravado, I really don't want to hurt Jason, and I think he feels similarly about me.

"Usually you show more enthusiasm when it comes to getting physical, slave."

Eric's taunt comes unexpected, and for a second I'm so angry I can hardly breathe. It's the sneering of Kira and her friends that helps me focus on where I am again, keeping me grounded and reminding me what's important now.

Jason still seems reluctant to make the first move, his fists are not even up yet and he leaves himself wide open when I step forward and throw a punch at his neck. He stumbles backwards, apparently not expecting me to go straight for the kill, and I use his momentum to trip him with my foot. He is much heavier than me, but all the training of the previous weeks has added some muscle to my body, and so I manage to swipe his feet away from under him. His back hits the mat like a bag of stones, a dull thud sounding through the room.

It has finally registered with Jason that I'm in this fight to win it, and with surprising speed he pulls himself together and tries to get back up again. But determination has already propelled me forward, I aim a kick at his rips and am rewarded by him cradling his side and falling on his back again. He makes no move other than to protect himself against my attack, he reacts instead of trying to anticipate what I might do next, but I know this can't last forever. I need to end this fight, end it quick, before he remembers my size and makes use of his much greater weight and strength against me.

"Aww, come on man, don't let the freak beat you."

"Yeah, Jason, get up!"

The other initiates' hostility isn't unexpected, but it still stings, and I use my anger to carry me a quick step forward and aim a hard kick to the side of Jason's face. I know how it feels to be at the receiving end of a kick like that, and a sob rises in my throat when Jason's eyes roll backwards and he stops moving.

Suddenly I'm not in the Dauntless training room anymore. Instead I'm back at Erudite, and I don't stand above another initiate, but am cowering in a corner trying to protect myself as much as possible against the merciless blows raining down on my back. I can't hear or feel anything other than the endless slashing and cutting of the belt, and I bite my lips hard enough to draw blood to stop myself from screaming. I'm seized by the shoulder and thrown on the floor, and a dark boot rapidly approaches my face.

  
\----------

  
I recoil from the hand that grabs my arm as I return to reality with a start, lashing out at whoever is trying to touch me. My arm is captured in a strong grip. Bile rises in my throat and I have to swallow violently to keep it down. Eric's presence next to me registers in my brain, having a weirdly calming effect, and I manage to straighten up from the somehow bent position I seem to have adopted. Whispers and stares meet me when I look towards the other initiates, and Eric's face is full of annoyance and disapproval.

This time I don't try to pull away as he drags me off the mat out of the training room. I barely have time to look back to see Four beckoning another initiate forward to help him get Jason off the mat. He sends a worried look in our direction and I wonder if he knows something I don't before the heavy doors slam shut behind us. Eric sets a quick pace and I struggle to follow him, still feeling sluggish from the weird episode I just had. He doesn't let go of my arm, and with every corner we take his grip seems to tighten even more.

I don't know where he is taking me, but he seems to have found what he was looking for when he pulls me into a small corridor somewhere deep in the Dauntless compound. My head hits the wall with a crack, and for a moment dark spots dance in front of my eyes. I don't need to feel the back of my skull to know that I'll have a bump there in a few minutes.

"What the fuck was that?" Eric's anger is palpable now, his barely restrained fury visible in the taunt line of his jaw, the pulse in his temple and the way he clenches the fist not holding onto my arm.

"Can you please let go of my arm? You're hurting me." I don't like how quiet my voice sounds, as if all the strength that allowed me to win my first fight had left my body when Jason slumped down on the floor.

"I think I've made it clear that I'll touch you whenever and wherever the fuck I want. Now tell me what the hell you think you were doing back there!" Nevertheless his grip loosens a fraction and some feeling returns to my arm, a tingling sensation shooting to my fingertips. Eric breathes heavily, apparently close to loosing it completely, and I try to pull myself together.

"I was winning my fight, just as I was meant to."

"That's not what I'm talking about, we'll discuss that pathetic display later. I'm talking about the weird shit that happened afterwards. What's with the crouching and whimpering and screaming?"

I don't know how to answer him. I have no idea what happened, the flashback to Erudite still making my heart race when I think about it. I don't remember screaming or whimpering, but a look into Eric's face shows me that he is rapidly approaching the end of his patience. I opt for honesty, as I usually do when I am completely lost. Eighteen years of Candor upbringing leave their mark, and I've found that sometimes the truth confuses people.

"I had a flashback to when I was tortured by Jeanine's guards. How they whipped and beat me, and how it felt to be completely defenseless. How it felt to LOSE. I remembered the pain, the feeling of the belt they used to hit me with, how disgusting their hands on me felt when they raped me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

My voice sounds stronger with every word I speak, and by the end of it I'm almost shouting at him. Long suppressed rage and bitterness course through me, and have finally fought their way out. The anger doesn't leave Eric's face, but I get the impression it is no longer directed at me.

"Well, you better find a way of dealing with your issues then, because you won't make it through to the next stage if you have a public meltdown after every fight."

Eric stares at me a few seconds longer, reigning himself in before stepping back and letting go of my arms, and soon the cold mask I'm so familiar with settles on his face again. Whatever got him so worked up, he has gotten himself under control now, and he starts walking away. For him, this little episode is over just as quickly as it started. I on the other hand have gotten angrier by the second, his careless words burning through the composure and calm that I've worked so hard to build.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Even I can hear that my voice is close to shrieking. Eric stops in his tracks and turns towards me, incredulity written on his face.

"WHAT did you just say?"

But I've had enough of all the cowering, of looking away, of backing down. Deep down I know what I'm doing is stupid, but I can't stay silent anymore.

"'Deal with it and move on', that's all you have to say? I mean, I wasn't really expecting sympathy from the man who thinks he owns me, but at least fucking acknowledge that what they did to me wasn't right."

"You're Divergent. What they did was perfectly legal." His emotionless statement, though technically correct, only serves to aggravate me more.

"You fucking coward!" I almost spit the word at him, and a dangerous gleam enters his eyes. I realise, too late, that his earlier rage isn't gone, that it is merely hidden underneath the surface, but I'm too far gone to care right now. "You and I both know that Divergents are no danger to our society. You just enjoy the power that comes from hunting us. You and your Erudite friends aren't strong enough to sort out your own problems, so you blame them on those who are different. You're a liar and a coward, and to be honest with you, I don't know what's worse."

Pain explodes in the left side of my face. Eric's hand hits my cheek hard, and the force of the blow makes me stumble. As I catch myself against the wall I think I see someone looking around the corner of the small corridor we're currently standing in, but when I blink the figure is gone. Still, I'm too used to pain by now to let a single hit stop me. I've wanted to say these words for a long time now, and the dam is broken. I'm no longer shouting, but my voice rings clear enough.

"Hitting me doesn't make me wrong. It just means you're afraid of what I have to say. The big bad Dauntless leader, scared of the words of a little slave girl. Who would've..." I don't get to finish my sentence, because Eric is suddenly on me, pushing me against the wall, his right forearm pressed against my throat in a fashion that's slowly becoming too familiar. I'm suddenly forced to concentrate on getting enough air into my lungs, and the raging anger I feel slowly leaves me. Or maybe it just transfers onto Eric, who, from the look on his face, is livid.

"I'd think very carefully about finishing this sentence if I were you. You've talked yourself into enough punishment as it is." The quieter Eric's voice gets the angrier he is. And right now I have to strain my ears to hear him over the noise of my racing heartbeat. "I've obviously been too nice to you if you think you can stand here and berate me without suffering the consequences. Let's get this straight, shall we?" He pauses for a second, his eyes still on mine and his hold on my body relentless.

"I could kill you right here and now, and nobody would stop me. I could fuck you on the leadership table in the mess hall, and nobody would bat an eye. I could carve my name into your skin with a blunt knife, and there is nothing anyone would do about it. I control your life whether you like it or not. I take what I want from you, and the only choice you have is to suck it up and accept it."

When he abruptly releases me I fight the urge to touch my throat and check for any injuries or bruising. I won't show him how unsettled I feel, how every sense of calmness and familiarity has been completely destroyed in the last ten minutes. I feel like I'm drowning, even more shocked than when I first arrived here, but I'd rather die than break down and cry in front of him now.

Eric is standing a few steps away from me, his back straight, and again I'm painfully reminded of the difference in our size and strength. His eyes are still dark with anger, but his voice is cold now, devoid of any emotion. "Get back to the apartment. I'll deal with your punishment later."

For once I obey him instantly, doing my best to ignore how obviously I'm running away. Usually I would've thrown a snarky comment in his face, but I think I've pushed my luck too far as it is.

When I round the corner I almost bump into Kira. Her face tells me that she has been listening in on Eric and me for long enough to know I'm in trouble. And that she enjoys it immensely. She flashes me a fake smile and hisses "What goes around comes around, bitch" under her breath, before confidently stepping around the corner towards Eric. "Four wanted me to check whether you'll oversee some of the remaining fights, sir." is all I can hear before I round another corner to make my way back to Eric's flat.

  
\----------

  
I've become used to people staring at me when I follow Eric around the compound, but that doesn't mean I like it. I always assumed the stares were mostly directed at Eric, and that people only stared at me because I was with him. But even though I'm alone and do my best not to attract attention, stares and whispers seem to follow me through the compound. I try very hard not to run, though I desperately want to get back to the relative safety of Eric's apartment so I can start processing what happened today.

I never had a flashback to Erudite before, and I'm usually way too tired to dream by the time I go to sleep. I know that I have to process and deal with what was done to me at some point, but until now I've only ever shoved it away to deal with some more immediated problem. Apart from the first week I never had time to rest, time to think, and it seems my subconscious is telling me in no uncertain terms that this is no longer an option.

For once I am glad when the door shuts behind me and I hear the lock slide into its place. Though I don't know how much time exactly I'll have before Eric follows me, I reckon it'll be at least another two hours if he wants to oversee the remaining fights. Hopefully I'll have pulled myself together by then, because I seriously doubt Eric will be in a good mood when he comes back. And unfortunately I have noone to blame but myself.

A quick glance over the living room and kitchen assures me that there is nothing for me to do here, and so I decide to indulge in a rare luxury: a shower I don't have to share with anyone. I'm not sure how Eric would react if he came back earlier than expected, but I figure he's going to be angry anyway, so I can hardly make it worse.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror I inspect the bruises that have formed on my forearm and throat. My cheek is also slightly red and the skin feels hot, but at least I don't have to walk around with an imprint of Eric's hand on my face.

A thought occurs to me as I look at myself. I've never seen the branding Jeanine mentioned, I only felt it the first few hours after leaving Erudite and have forgotten about it since. I'm not sure if I'm ready to see it, but who knows when I'll next get the chance to appraise myself uninterruptedly.

I take a deep breath, telling myself that I can handle whatever she did. It takes a bit of straining to be able to see my left shoulder properly in the mirror, but when I slowly lift my hair out of the way it is right there.

Despite all the encouragement and promises I made to myself I have to stifle a sob when I see the ugly red scar, its ridge shaped like a D, the skin around it distorted and burnt. I'm actually surprised I couldn't feel it at all. From the looks of it it should have hurt like hell, and I briefly wonder if all her experiments have increased my pain tolerance to such an unreasonable level. But all the shots I received probably contained some healing serums and painkillers.

The thought of being branded like an animal is too much right now. This time I can't stop the sobs that rise in my throat, and I hastily step into the cubicle and under the spray before I collapse on the floor, shaking. I cry as hard as the day I ran away after my test, cry out all the pain I feel about being forced to live as a slave, all the fear about not making it through initiation, all the anger at Jeanine and her torture and my situation in general.

When my sobs subside after a while and I slowly stand and start washing off this messed up day, I remember my mother telling me "after a good cry and a good night's sleep, things usually look only half as bad". I can only do one of these things, but I'm already starting to feel better. More like myself and less like the version of me that cowers in fear of Erudite. I know I'll have to find a way of properly dealing with the trauma that is Erudite. The first thing I have to do is accept that it happened and that I can do nothing to change that. Once I've found a way to do just that I'll hopefully be able move on. I probably won't manage in a day or two, but I'll work on it.

I'm still angry about my situation and I'm still afraid I might fail initiation, but I don't feel as hopeless anymore. And though I'm not looking forward to another confrontation with Eric or what he has in store for me as punishment, I know that I'm strong enough to take it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, after a much longer time than I wanted or anticipated! 
> 
> I'm sorry guys, real-life had a few things in store for me recently that I found hard to deal with and writing wasn't really high on my agenda. I haven't abandoned this story (and I won't), but it will probably take me longer than it did in the beginning to get my chapters to where I want them.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next chapter in Linna's and Eric's story, and let me know what you think :) 
> 
> PS: I promise, there will be more sexy time in the chapter I'm currently writing, though when that will be ready is anyone's guess...


	9. What's coming will come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for sticking with me :) I hope you enjoy the next chapter of our ride together. Let me know what you think!
> 
> For those of you who'd like to skip the smut scenes, leave out the section marked with 
> 
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> 
>  
> 
> xxxxxxxxxx
> 
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> 
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What's coming will come. And we'll meet it when it does.  
J. K. Rowling

  
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I freeze when I hear the door open. Though I feel a lot calmer than I did earlier, I'm not looking forward to my next encounter with Eric. I doubt that his mood has improved by much, and he has had enough time to come up with elaborate and probably painful ways to punish me.

His face doesn't betray anything when he steps into the room and sees me standing by the kitchen counter, about to start preparing dinner. His grey eyes, which were blazing with rage earlier, give nothing away. Even though I decided that now is not the right time for defiance, that he maybe needs to see me if not deferential then at least subdued, I can't help but square my shoulders and raise my chin at him. I meant every word I said and I'm ready to face the consequences for my actions.

"We're eating in the mess hall tonight. Put that stuff away so we can go. You have two minutes."

With this, he disappears into his bedroom, taking off his combat vest and pulling his black shirt over his head as he speaks. I'm surprised by his lack of open hostility. Maybe he decided to let me stew in anxious anticipation for a while longer. As I put knife, cutting board and ingredients away a thought strikes me. What if he'll make good on his threat from earlier and force me to do things in front of everybody in the mess hall? He might not be willing to share, but he might see this as the perfect opportunity to show me he's not messing around.

Dread creeps up my spine, and not for the first time I curse my overly wild imagination.

It was one of the things that always set me at odds with my faction as a child. Whilst I knew I should be telling the truth, spinning stories seemed so much more interesting to me. Why admit you were late because you forgot the time whilst playing with your friends, when you can tell a tale about how you fought off a fire breathing dragon behind the school building.

It took a lot of patient explaining and perseverance from my parents to make me understand why our faction values honesty above all else. Because duplicity can hide in the most innocent of stories. Because you can only fight an evil you can actually see. Because without all the facts you're just fumbling around in the dark. But even to this day I feel that sometimes a lie may be the kinder choice. That stories can teach important lessons too. And that there are some truths which should be left unsaid.

I wait for Eric in the middle of the living room. The stiff uniform is gone when he steps out of the small corridor, and he's now wearing workout gear instead. He reaches for my face when he stops in front of me, and I can't suppress a flinch. Something almost like regret passes over his face, but it's gone far too quickly for me to really discern it. I ignore it for now, too focussed on Eric's hand that now holds my chin in a surprisingly gentle grip and turns it so he can have a look at the bruises on my neck and the redness on my cheek. I don't know what he's looking for, but after a brief inspection he let's go of my face.

"Don't bother trying to hide it."

I simply nod, not really understanding why he's giving me this particular order, but he seems satisfied with my reaction. As I follow him through the long, dark corridors of Dauntless, I'm again too aware of all the stares and whispers following us. I know now that they're partially directed at me, but I can't for the life of me figure out why. I'm definitely not the only Divergent slave living in Dauntless, and as far as I'm aware the only thing that sets me apart from the others is who I'm forced to live with.

The walk helps me calm down, as being able to move usually does, and my worry about Eric's plans seeps away somehow. Nevertheless, when we enter the canteen area and Eric gestures towards the Divergent table, I'm only too happy to get away from him again.

There's only one other person sitting at the table, and I have to fight a grin when I plop down next to Tris. I haven't been able to speak with her since my first day, which already feels like a lifetime away. And today of all days I'm truly grateful for the presence of another person who might understand what I'm going through.

"You seem awfully cheerful for somebody who has a punishment from Eric coming her way, if the rumours I'm hearing are true."

Tris doesn't look at me as she says this, seemingly more interested in the food in front of her. I try to mimic the neutral expression on her face, grabbing a piece of bread and filling a bowl from the large pot in the middle of the table.

"Not sure I'd go with cheerful, but I'm glad I get to see you. And I've decided not to worry about Eric until he gives me reason to. Nothing I can change about it anyway."

The stew is surprisingly tasty, and just what I need after this draining day. I suddenly realise how hungry I am.

"That doesn't sound like the Linna I met. Are you sure you haven't been hit on the head once too often in that initiation game you're playing?" The smile is in her voice, even when her face remains impassive.

"So you've heard about that too, huh?"

"Everybody has heard about it. This faction is the biggest bunch of gossips you can imagine. A slave participating in initiation and not doing horribly, that'll keep them going forever. I hear some people are not happy with it."

Interesting. It never occurred to me that anybody would find it unusual that Eric makes me participate in initiation. To me it's just another way in which he establishes his power over me, his way to keep me busy and in line. I never thought about what others might think about it, or how his faction would see it. Why some people might have a problem with it is beyond me.

"Why would they be unhappy? I'm the one who will get killed if I fail, it doesn't mean anything to them." I struggle hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice, and fail miserably.

"But if you don't fail, it shows that you don't have to be 100% Dauntless to pass initiation. And that will matter to more than just a few people."

My spoon stops halfway between the bowl and my mouth, food suddenly forgotten. Tris is right, of course. If I pass initiation it shows that my aptitude for more than one faction doesn't prevent me from succeeding in one of them. That I can make it somewhere based on hard work alone. That the test is an indication, not a certainty.

If people knew about this they might realise that Divergents can belong, that they're not the odd ones out, that they would simply have to choose between various options. Just as the test was originally meant as a tool to help people make their own decision, not to seal their fate without them having a say in it. My mind is reeling. I wonder if Eric thought of all this when he started this round of our game, and if he's already regretting it. Maybe that would explain his foul mood earlier today.

"Stop gawking and continue eating. You're only drawing more attention to yourself."

Tris' quiet admonishment is well deserved. From the corner of my eye I can see Eric glaring at me from the leadership table, and I hastily continue eating. For the rest of the meal I keep my head down, too lost in my own thoughts to make conversation with Tris and she seems happy to leave me be.

It's only when I see Eric finishing his conversation with his fellow leaders and seemingly getting ready to leave that I remember one question I've been meaning to ask Tris since my first day of training.

"Tris, how is Four to live with as a..." I refuse to say 'owner' and finally, after an awkward pause, settle on "...person?"

"He's a good guy. He's fair and honest, and he works really hard."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. You had a bruise on your face when I last saw you. Does he treat you okay?"

"He does. The bruise was from a run in with another faction member. Some idiot called Peter. It wasn't Four's fault. He would never do anything to hurt me."

Tris sounds cagey as she says it, apparently not happy with my line of questioning. "How about you? Is living with Eric as bad as you thought it would be?"

I actually have to think for a second before answering.

"To be honest, no. He's not horrible to live with. It's only when other people are around that he's becoming a pain. If it's just him and me it's actually not that bad. Shallow as it sounds, it probably helps that he's good in bed, too. At least that's one less thing to worry about."

I almost regret that statement as soon as I see Tris' face blush bright red. Of course! She told me she grew up in Abnegation, and they have a rather different approach to sex than we did in Candor.

"That's...good to hear, I guess."

It might not be nice to tease her about this, but I simply can't resist. It's been too long since I had any kind of normal conversation with another girl, and I miss the constant teasing of my siblings and friends.

"So how about Four, is he good in bed? Or has he taken the honourable approach and is sleeping on the couch?"

"He definitely doesn't force me to do anything I don't want. At least while we're in his apartment. Does that answer your question? Or do you want me to ask what you are getting up to with Eric in his office every day during lunchtime?"

"You can. It's nothing special. We're eating there. Mostly food, sometimes each other. It's surprising how much you can get up to in one hour, don't you think?" Tris flushes an even deeper shade of red, and I do my best to hide a smirk behind my hand. I never thought I would be able to joke about the situation we're in, but Tris' old Abnegation habits and sensibilities are too good of an opportunity for my Candor to let slide.

"I did NOT need to know that. Please go back to being your brooding self now."

I think if Tris turned an even darker shade of red she might pass out from all the blood rising to her head. Before I can come up with a reply, Eric is suddenly next to me, making his impatience clear by simply hovering, and I have no choice but to get up and follow him out of the hall without a goodbye to Tris.

  
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As usual Eric sets a brisk pace, and I have to almost run to keep up with him. I follow him up several flights of stairs and through unfamiliar corridors. Wherever we're going, it's neither to his office nor any of the training rooms I know.

I don't expect the breath of fresh air that hits me as Eric pushes open yet another steel door, and we end up on a roof. It's already getting dark outside, but with no higher buildings around us the fading sun provides more than enough light to see. Four Dauntless soldiers try to look sharp and salute as Eric walks towards them.

"Anything unusual?"

"No sir. A bunch of factionless hanging around sector five around nineteen hundred, but they're gone now. Nothing else to report, sir"

"Good. Make sure it stays that way."

The threat in Eric's voice is obvious, though I don't understand why he would be threatening his own soldiers. Eric then sets to inspect the guards' gear, shouting at one of them for not storing his ammunition correctly and ordering another to do 100 push-ups for "letting your knife get blunt enough I could shove it up your ass and you wouldn't feel a thing".

I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one getting apprehensive under the intensity of Eric's stare. These guys are supposed to be hardened soldiers, but it's obvious even to me that being in the focus of attention of one of their leaders is more than a little unnerving. When there's nothing left for Eric to criticise he simply nods and throws a curt "Carry on" in the direction of the team leader.

Then he sets out towards the far side of the roof, not bothering to check if I will follow.

"At least that's a lesson I've learned well, following him around like a dog" I mumble to myself as I hurry after him, and I swear there's a tiny grin flashing over his face before the cold mask settles again. When we reach the far end, Eric jumps onto the small ledge encircling the roof, and gestures to a spot beside him.

"Come on slave, we don't have all night."

I don't really want to get close to him right now, especially not on the edge of a roof, and I don't like it when he calls me slave. But I've tempted fate often enough for one day, and so I reluctantly climb onto the wall next to him. The next building is close, maybe two metres out and two metres down, and somehow I know exactly what he's going to say before he even opens his mouth. I almost smile.

If he thinks he can scare me by making me jump from one roof onto another he's thoroughly underestimating me. That might have worked the first day, when I was shattered and exhausted from weeks of torture, but I'm stronger now. Training for inititation and proper food have added muscle to my body, and for once I don't mind the challenge Eric throws my way when he orders me to jump.

I don't think, simply throw myself into the air and brace for the impact. It might not have been the most graceful of landings, but at least I manage to land on my feet this time, taking a few steps to balance myself, and don't fall flat onto my face. My knees still hurt from the impact, but it's a massive improvement compared to the time Eric made me jump off the train.

"That was terrible." Eric, seemingly less impressed with my landing than I am, is already jogging alongside the roof, and I have to resist the temptation to flip him off. Food and a talk with a person who doesn't see me as a freak have apparently revived my temper.

I follow him for I don't know how long, running and tripping through the fast approaching darkness, climbing up ladders, jumping between buildings. I don't understand what he's trying to achieve with this, whether my punishment is going to be running after him until I pass out. I've also completely lost my bearings, I have no idea if we're even still on Dauntless grounds. Although the moon shines brightly I don't recognise any of our surroundings.

When we reach an area covered by a roof of corrugated metal high on yet another building, Eric stops and turns towards me. I try my best to hide that I'm out of breath. Despite all the training I'm still no match for the years of Dauntless workouts he has on me. The sudden smile on his face is unsettling, and I'm proud that I manage to restrain the urge to take a step back.

"So, wildcat, time for your punishment."

I'm confused. I haven't forgotten his fury, the anger that made him lash out at me, the threats he uttered loud enough for Kira to hear. Yet here we are on a roof, with nobody in sight, and whilst he's not using my name, at least he hasn't called me slave either. Maybe he's planning to keep this punishment between us. I know that the presence of other people wouldn't have stopped him, but for some reason I'm glad that no-one will witness whatever Eric has in store for me now. Being humiliated in front of other people doesn't rank particularly high on my agenda.

"What do you want me to do?" Guessing games have never been my strong suit, and with Eric I'm usually far off anyway. His smile widens, but it doesn't make him look any friendlier. Instead I'm reminded of a tiger baring its teeth. Eric probably wouldn't mind the comparison.

"I want you to fight me. Prove to me that you've actually learned something. Get through my defence. If you manage to land one hit, I'll forgive your tantrum from this morning. If not, well, let's just say I'm pretty sure you won't like what I have in mind."

Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that. Mentally I was prepared for anything between him beating the shit out of me in front of half of his faction to Erudite style torture with whips, knifes and cigarette burns. But instead of all that, he'll give me the chance to not only defend myself but to actually fight back? I don't know where he came up with the idea, but I'll happily take it. Fighting back is something I've wanted to do since the first time he caught me back in Amity.

I nod, brace myself and adopt the fighting position Four keeps going on about. Eric's reference to my breakdown as a tantrum is an obvious bait, designed to make me angry again, but I know that I'll need to gather my wits if I want to stand a chance of getting past his defences. I need to be smart about this. The only advantage I have on him is that I'm smaller and therefore easier to miss, but his almost snake-like speed will probably render even that useless.

He easily blocks the first punches and kicks I aim his way, and it dawns on me quickly that nothing Four has taught us so far will help me with Eric. They are basic moves, designed to slowly lead us into more advanced fighting techniques, but they're so obvious that Eric could probably fight me off blindfolded and with a hand tied behind his back. If I want to avoid finding out what the alternative to his challenge is I'll have to find another angle.

I step forward, trying to land a hit against his chin. But I don't even get close to him. Eric's fist lands on my ribs and sends me stumbling back. I just about manage to find my balance again, raising my arms way too late in a defensive position, but Eric simply stands there and smirks at me.

"You step before you punch. Any child can see when you're about to hit."

This piece of advice is actually helpful, and I'm confused. Why is he telling me this? I thought his plan was to punish me, not to improve my fighting technique.

I try again, aiming for his shoulder this time. Both my hands are up, and I'm confident he won't find it as easy to hit my ribs this time. A kick to the knee that bears most my weight sends me crashing to the ground, and I don't even need to see Eric's face to know that his grin just got wider.

"You're too slow. Never think you know what your opponent is up to. Make sure you can get out of the way quickly."

I pull myself back up, and wreck my brain for some of the more advanced techniques I saw Four demonstrate with another Dauntless member on the first day. Instead of coming at Eric directly I try to duck under his left arm, hoping that it'll be easier to get through on his non-dominant side. The momentum of my movement alone sends me stubling when Eric simply steps aside and watches me almost crash into one of the steel poles holding up the roof.

"Aww, come on, is that really all you got?"

Eric is obviously enjoying himself. He's holding back, that much is clear. He blocks every advance I make, deflects every punch, but never starts a counter attack, which is probably why I'm still standing. An idea suddenly strikes me. If I can get him to attack me instead of simply deflecting, he might leave himself open for long enough for me to get through. One hit, that's all I need. I'll never knock him out, the thought alone is laughable, but I just need to make it through.

"I don't know, it seems a bit boring with you just standing there. Are you sure you're really into this?" I can't keep the challenge from my voice, and Eric's eyes light up in amusement.

"Bored? You should've said so."

Before I have time to reply Eric is upon me, one fist easily finding my stomach, the other lightly grazing my chin. My arms were not even half in the defensive posture they are meant to be in, and his movements are just too quick for me. Luckily, Eric has softened the force of his blow, which means that while it hurts and the air is knocked from my lungs, I only stumble back a few steps, before I stand and glower at him. A raised eyebrow is the only response I get.

"Sure you don't want to rethink that?"

I shake my head no, and rush at him before I can second-guess myself. He captures both of my fists as I aim for his stomach, and pulls me towards him when I try to land a kick against his knee. He's now gripping my biceps, my arms caught between both our chests. There's not much I have left to work with, but this position brings us closer in height. So I lean forward and bite into the juncture of his neck as hard as I can.

Eric doesn't let go of me, but grunts as my teeth break his skin. I awkwardly try to kick him again, although my feet are still dangling above the ground. The next thing I know is my back being slammed into the ground. All breath leaves my body and I wait for the inevitable crack of my head against cold concrete, but Eric's arm has surprisingly caught my fall. He's on top of me now, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. He quickly grabs both my wrists in one hand, fingers digging into soft skin, easily catching on of my knees under his.

"I won!" I state boldly and breathlessly. Eric's jaw tightens, and he looks as if he can't decide whether to scowl or smile.

"You didn't. I said one hit, not one slightly miscalculated hickey."

His tone is accusatory, but lacks bite, and I feel emboldened to defend myself.

"You said I had to get through your defence. I did. So I won."

Adrenaline is coursing through me, making me more daring than is probably wise. I wonder where all my anger at Eric is gone. Not even six hours ago he backhanded me in a corridor deep in the Dauntless compound, and scared me more than when I first came to Dauntless. I couldn't even be near him without flinching earlier. But now, all I can think of is how good it felt to be allowed to rush at him, to fight back, how he seems to understand what I needed better than I did, and how I don't mind the familiarity of his hands and the weight of his body on top of me.

Eric looks thoughtful, obviously struggling to make a decision. I bite my tongue and hope that it'll be in my favour when I see his trademark smirk on his lips again.

"Maybe today. But I bet you're not going to manage that again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? You said I had to get through only once!" I can't keep the indignation out of my voice.

"I just changed the rules." Again that damn smirk. And again him and his damn habit of changing the game. But somehow, I don't feel as disheartened by his challenge this time. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the chaos of this mad day, maybe it's the fact that instead of being in pain as I feared I would be this evening, I simply feel flushed with the excitement of the fight. I can't hold back a smirk of my own.

"Then I'll just find a way to break them again."

Eric's mood really must have improved since this afternoon, because he leans forward and whispers "I don't doubt it, wildcat. I'm rather counting on it." in my ear, before crushing his mouth against mine.

  
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All anger, all stress, all bad feelings slowly melt away at the feeling of Eric's lips against mine. We've long grown past the stage where every kiss is a fight for dominance, and every move a struggle to gain the upper hand. Those moments still happen, but they have become rarer, and right now I'm happy to simply lie here and enjoy the feelings he causes in me.

Eric doesn't seem in a rush, taking his time to slowly draw out our kissing until my head is spinning and I'm panting breathlessly against him. He let go of my wrists long ago, instead he's now supporting himself on one arm to make sure he's not crushing me, and slowly drawing his other hand up and down my side. I take this opportunity to run my hands over his shoulders, and around and down his back. I don't mind his size and strength when I'm lying underneath him like this, it actually makes me feel safe and protected. But I haven't been brave enough yet to try to explore why that may be. Suppressing or refusing to think about actual emotion is another thing I've become rather good at.

For now, I simply focus on the sensation of Eric's palm against my heated skin, as his hand slides underneath my shirt. His touch is demanding and gentle at the same time, never unsure or hesitant in telling me what he wants. I moan when his hand finds my breast and pushes my bra out of the way to allow him better access.

Eric's mouth has moved onto my neck, and soon he's sucking and gently biting the spot he seems to have mapped out so well over the previous weeks. My head falls back on its own accord and I enjoy the feelings washing over me. If this is his idea of punishment, maybe I should've screamed at him much sooner.

I grab the hem of his shirt, eager to get it off him. He complies, a smug smile playing around his lips as I whine impatiently when he has to leave me long enough to pull the shirt over his head. Soon enough I can feel his heat on top of me, and his lips find my neck again. I enjoy the feeling of taunt muscle playing under smooth skin, and alternate between feeling him up and lightly dragging my fingernails up and down his back. The low hum in his throat tells me that he likes what I'm doing, and his hands move slower on me as he leans into my touch.

My eyes shoot open as Eric sinks his teeth into my neck. There's laughter in his voice as he whispers, "Doesn't feel so good, does it?" into my ear, before going back to slowly drawing his lips up my neck and along my jaw.

I can't let a challenge like that go unanswered, and so I start reciprocating, running the tip of my tongue slowly up his neck alongside the dark blocks of his tattoo whilst digging my nails into his shoulders. It's a surge of power whenever I manage to break Eric's cold facade and get him to unravel under my hands, when the mask drops and he's as desperate for my touch as I am for his. It only seems fair, given that he never fails to make me fall apart. I count each appreciative sound he makes as a win, and it only adds to my excitement.

I rub my legs together, trying to relieve some of the tingling sensation I feel. Some days I enjoy it when Eric takes his time teasing and playing with me, but today waiting is the last thing on my mind. I almost growl at him when one of his hands is finally on my breast again, and I arch my back to push myself closer to him. Each tug and flick of my nipple sends sparks to the bundle of nerves between my legs. I dig my nails into his back, glad to finally be able to touch him freely and without the hindrance of clothing limiting my reach.

"So impatient." He chuckles as my hands move from his shoulder blades down to the waist of his sweatpants. But he takes the hint, loosening the string holding them up, and allowing me to slide my hands underneath. I try shoving them down with one hand while reaching between us with the other and closing my fingers around his erection. I give it an experimental squeeze, enjoying the feeling of silken hardness in my hand.

Eric's movements suddenly are a lot more determined. He starts pushing my trousers down my legs, and for a moment we're an awkward tangle of arms and legs, just trying to get my pants and underwear off.

We give almost identically satisfied sighs when my trousers are finally off, he is back on top of me, and his fingers finally find the place where I want them most right now. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs, checking how hard and fast he can go with me tonight, and each flick and move of his fingers sends jolts of electricity through me. When he slips a finger into me to check whether I'm wet enough, I can't help put push against his hand, silently urging him to stop playing around and do me already.

For once he doesn't feel like continuing to tease me, as he positions himself at my entrance and slowly pushes into me. I'm more used now to the sensation of feeling stretched almost beyond comfort than I was in the beginning, so there is nothing painful any more when Eric doesn't wait for long before he settles into a hard, fast rhythm against me.

The only thing I can hear is the sound of our bodies moving against each other, of both our laboured breathing, and I savour the feeling of Eric pushing into me hard. I dig my nails into his sides and back, holding on and trying to meet him as we find a rhythm that works for both of us.

"Touch yourself." Eric's breath is hot against my ear, and my hand moves between us of its own accord. It doesn't need much to send me over the edge, I'm already halfway there, and soon the familiar feeling of liquid fire rushing through my veins washes over me. Eric stills as I ride out the waves of my orgasm, but he moves quicker, his thrusts more forceful, when he resumes his rhythm.

He must have been pretty close himself, because soon he bites his lip and a low growl escapes him as his movements become more erratic. He buries his head in the curve of my neck, my arms still wrapped around him and my legs entangled with his, and luckily remembers to catch some of his weight with his left arm, before collapsing on top of me.

  
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I don't know how long we've been lying there, but with the rush and glow of my orgasm fading I'm starting to realise how uncomfortable our current position actually is. Eric's weight is no longer comforting. Instead I can feel every pebble, every unevenness, every crack in the concrete underneath me digging into my back, and Eric on top of me isn't helping. I probably collected a few chafe and scrape marks along the way, and my ribs emit the distinct feeling of a bruise forming where Eric's fist landed earlier. I give his shoulders an experimental shove, trying to get him to move off me.

"Stop fidgeting, or I'll tie your hands next time." He doesn't sound angry when he says this, only tired, and so I push against his shoulders again.

"You're crushing me. Can you please get off?"

I'm half expecting one of his 'I'll do whatever I want to you' speeches, but instead he just lifts his head off my shoulder, winks at me and says, "Well, since you're asking so nicely..."

The feeling of both our juices trickling down my thigh as he withdraws from me is expected, and I already know that I'll try to convince him to let me have another shower later. I hate feeling this sticky. For now I brush off the tiny pebbles stuck to my skin, pull my pants up and fix my bra. My shirt is torn in several places, but it covers enough of me that I don't feel naked. Besides, compared to what I've seen some Dauntless women wear in public, a torn shirt and bra underneath is rather tame.

Eric is already standing next to me, giving me a critical once-over.

"You look like a mess, but since that seems to be your general state today I'll let it slide this time."

"How very generous of you, given that you're the reason I'm in this state in the first place."

Instead of getting angry at me as I expect, for a brief moment Eric looks almost wistful, before his face hardens.

"Just make sure you remember that."

With this cryptic comment he starts walking towards the edge of the building. When he turns at the ladder we used to get up here, he is once again Eric, the Dauntless leader. Head held high, shoulders back, eyes cold and unforgiving. I should be used to his mercurial mood swings by now, but to see him like this minutes after relishing in the feeling of his body on top of mine still sends a shiver down my spine.

"What are you waiting for? A fucking invitation? Get your lazy ass over here, we're going to run back to the compound."

It's only when he says this that I remember how long it took us to get here. Suddenly I feel bone-tired. But Eric's expression leaves no room for arguments, and so once again I drag my tired body after him.


	10. Don't depend on the enemy not coming

Don't depend on the enemy not coming.

Depend rather on being ready for him.

  
Sun Zi

  
\---------

 

"Up next, Sano and Linna."

I've been dreading Four's words since I came into the training room this morning and saw the schedule for today's fights. We've all made progress over the last few days, and since I haven't had another flashback episode my evening sessions with Eric seem to have paid off. I still get this weird tight feeling in my chest when I'm fighting someone I consider a nice person, but it doesn't stop me from getting better and giving everything I have. I'm currently ranked eleventh in the group made up from Dauntless born and transfers, and I'm slowly allowing myself to start thinking about passing initiation after all.

Despite all this, I'm well aware that all the progress I've made is still not enough to win against Sano. The best I can hope for is holding my ground long enough that Four won't dock too many points off me when I lose. At least ours is the last fight of the day, meaning that the audience is smaller than usual, with some people having gone off to the hospital ward to get checked out by one of the nurses.

Kira, of course, is still around, and the expectant grin on her face grinds on my nerves. However, I can't suppress a satisfied smile at the sight of the brilliant black eye she's sporting and the scratch marks on her arms. The idea of fighting her didn't give me any anxiety yesterday, but I didn't expect the rush of adrenaline and joy that came with finally being able to knock her out after a long, dirty fight. It hasn't won me any points with her or her loyal followers, but for the moment I couldn't care less. As long as I follow Eric's orders it doesn't matter that they hate my guts. And hopefully I won't have to see them again once they've passed initiation.

Yesterday's win won't mean anything though if I can't hold my ground against our top initiate today. Better to get this over with than drag it out as long as possible. I try to look more confident than I feel as I step into the ring. All the fights I've watched over the last few weeks have shown me that it rarely ends well if one of the opponents looks ready to flee from the moment they set foot onto the mat. Besides, I'm pretty sure Four and Eric take off points if people drag their feet and try to avoid a fight, and I can't afford that.

Sano is a fair fighter. He's confident in his abilities and aware of his advantage, but he never uses it to try and intimidate or mock the person he's fighting. He lets his skill speak for itself, and I admire that about him. Now, however, I wish he gave me a reason to be angry at him. I need to summon all the strength I have, and anger has always proven useful for that. Then again, I'll need to use my brain to stay in this fight as long as possible, and fury is rarely a good mentor.

Summoning all the things I've learned since initiation started, I manage to avoid Sano's first few hits. I need to be sure of where and how I want to attack him before I get close, and for now I focus on blocking and dodging his attacks. Eric's bored voice thwarts my plan.

"Stop playing with each other. I want to see some real fighting, you're not in Stiff-land for fuck's sake."

This seems to have been all that Sano has been waiting for, because the speed and intensity of his attacks increases. Though he's quick and strong, I manage to land a few hits towards his knee and ribs. Training with Eric has taught me how to deal with an opponent who is superior in both strength and ability, and the rush of the fight flows through me as Sano and I circle each other, both looking for a weakness to exploit.

It's my confidence that brings me down in the end. Too focussed on how great it feels to have lasted this long, I stumble, my own feet suddenly too hard to coordinate in tune with the rest of my body. Sano uses this opportunity mercilessly. I barely manage to bring up my arms to block a blow towards the left side of my head, and he uses the hole in my defence to send me stumbling back with a hit to my ribs. In the beginning this would've sent me falling backwards, but now I manage to stay standing. Sano takes another step towards me, and I suddenly rush forward, driving my elbow into his chest and stepping on his foot as hard as I can at the same time.

His yelp is music to my ears, but my elation is short-lived. I don't move away from him fast enough, and now Sano easily grabs me and tackles me to the ground. I kick out towards him, rewarded by yet another small cry of pain, but the wind is knocked out of my lungs when I hit the mat, and there is nothing I can do to escape the fist that rapidly approaches my face. The feeling of pain exploding in my head is eerily familiar. My movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated, I try to resist the darkness dragging me down. I can't give up just yet! I can't afford to lose that many points! But when I feel Sano grabbing my head with both hands and he slams me against the mat, I almost welcome the pull of unconsciousness.

  
\---------

  
I groan as I wake up, bright lights hurting my eyes even though I'm still squeezing them shut. I can't place where I am just based on the sounds around me, and my pulse quickens. Rarely has something good in my life come from me waking up at an unknown place.

"Welcome back. You took quite a hit there. Maybe be a bit more careful around the tall brooding types next time."

The voice is unfamiliar, and a little bit too cheerful for my liking. Maybe Eric's general demeanour has rubbed off on me, or maybe it's the pounding headache already building behind my temples, but I desperately want to tell this unknown person to tone it down. I slowly pry my eyes open. It takes a while for everything to come into focus, but after a few blinks the brownish spot in front of me turns into the smiling face of a woman in a Dauntless nurse uniform. The expression in her dark brown eyes is kind as she looks at me, and I feel drawn to her almost instantly.

"Welcome to the Dauntless hospital wing. I'm Sam. I was on duty when they brought you in. We're normally quite busy anyway, with people getting into fights over the most stupid things, but it's even worse during initiation. Do you think you guys could lay off the whole needing-medical-attention-routine for a while?"

The wink she sends me takes the bite out of her last comment, and I can't help but flash a smile at her. My head doesn't seem to agree with this level of cheerfulness however, and I grimace when a new burst of pain shoots through my temple.

"Yes, that's not unexpected I'm afraid. Other than a few bruises you seem fine, but let me check out that head of yours. It's probably only a mild concussion, but I'd like to make sure."

Sam's tone has taken on a business-like hue, and for the next few minutes she keeps my attention focussed on her and the tests she's running. Once she has satisfied herself that there is nothing majorly wrong with my brain, she shoves a small glass of a bright blue liquid into my hands and watches me swallow every last drop. I shudder. The serum leaves a bad taste in my mouth and brings back unwanted memories to another hospital wing I woke up in. Sam gives me a sympathetic smile.

"It's not super tasty, I know, but it'll make you feel better soon. And hopefully that nasty headache won't stick around for too long either. It will take a while for all your symptoms to disappear though, so you need to make sure you'll get enough rest tonight. You should be right as rain tomorrow. If you want I could give you a mild painkiller to help you sleep, or you could..."

"Maybe if you stopped the endless chattering she could get her ass out of bed and we could finally get out of here. I have other shit to do than watch you pamper her all evening."

I'm not surprised to hear Eric's voice from the other side of the bed. I didn't notice him while Sam was running her tests, but he is rarely far when something happens to me. Plus, he probably didn't want to miss yet another chance to reprimand me and tell me off for losing my fight. What I don't expect is the easy way in which Sam laughs him off.

"Oh, shut it, Eric. I don't try to tell you how to run a faction, so don't try to tell me how to run my hospital. Deal?"

"I can think of more than one occasion when you came storming into my office trying to tell me how to run my faction, actually."

"And did you ever do the smart thing and listen to me? Obviously not. Now shush, we're almost done here and I need to make sure my patient is going to be fine."

"One of these days I'm not going to let you get away with mouthing off, Samantha. Head nurse or not."

Yet Eric's answer holds no bite, and he returns Sam's almost affectionate grin with a small smile of his own. I desperately wish my head would stop hurting, because I can't shake the feeling that there's a whole conversation going on right here that I'm missing. But Sam's attention has shifted back to me, and she carefully helps me off the bed. I'm still feeling dizzy and it takes effort to focus my eyes on anything. I want to keep holding on to her to steady myself, but I can't afford to show Eric how weak I truly feel. I'm proud when I manage the few steps towards him without stumbling. Maybe I can actually make it back to his flat in one piece.

"Now, no running around, no exercise, just rest tonight. Got it?"

Sam looks at Eric as she says this, her tone leaving no room for argument. I simply nod. As if there was anything I could do to stop Eric if he decided that rest was not what he wanted for me this evening. The idea of allowing me to rest is probably laughable to him, especially since in his opinion it's my own fault that I lost my fight and ended up needing medical attention.

"She'll do as she's told."

Eric sounds like his normal, arrogant self, but the pace he sets as we make our way down the long, dark corridors of Dauntless is not as quick as usual. To my surprise, when we get back he simply tells me to go to bed. No dressing-down, no threats, no comments on how I'm too weak to succeed. All my chores still unfinished. I'm trying to stay awake, to understand what happened here today, but resisting the sweet temptation of sleep proves too much for me. My last thought as I fall asleep is that it feels as if Eric and I moved a step forward today. But on what path and in which direction I have no idea.

 

\---------

 

I keep watching Eric over the next few days, trying to figure out if there's anything different in his behaviour towards me. But as far as I can tell, nothing has changed to make him snap out of his Dauntless leader persona, and he's as difficult to figure out as ever. He can be unyielding and demanding when we're on one of our nightly trips around Dauntless, both towards me during our training sessions and towards his soldiers as he inspects their combat readiness. He can be cold and uncaring when Kira or one of her friends rip into me and I can't defend myself due to my status as his slave. He can be witty and funny during the arguments that develop when I can't keep my mouth shut and that sometimes seem more like make-believe than reality. He can be patient and kind, almost affectionate, when we're alone and there is nobody around but me to see him let his guard down a tiny bit.

One thing I've noticed is that his stress level increases on certain days when we don't go running and he leaves me locked in his flat in the evening. I don't know where he's going or what he's doing then, but the tension in his shoulders when he returns and the sharpness in his tone make me think he's not particularly enjoying it. None of my attempts to figure out what's going on on those nights have paid off so far, and I'm starting to think that I'll only be able to figure it out if I can get access to his tablet. He's left it out on the small table by the couch a few times now while he went to change, but I haven't worked up the nerve to snoop around on it yet.

The door opens with more force than usual, and I almost jump out of my skin. Eric told me he'd have dinner in the mess hall tonight, and I must have fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for him to return. He seems excited and full of energy as he walks into the flat, more than I'd think usual for this time of night. A quick glance to the clock on one of the book shelves confirms my suspicion that it's late, almost midnight, and I wonder what Eric is up to now.

"Go get dressed again. We're meeting the other initiates by the train tracks in fifteen minutes."

A hundred questions race through my mind, the one about why we're leaving the compound at this time of night at the forefront, but I don't get the chance to ask any of them. I put on my sturdiest work out gear and a jacket, unsure of what exactly we'll be doing. It seems to meet Eric's approval, because he gives me a curt nod before heading out the door again.

I hurry after him, shaking off the last remnants of sleep as we walk through the compound that, despite the late hour, is still vibrant with life. I haven't experienced a truly quiet time in Dauntless, the more subdued and sleepy busyness of the early morning hours is probably as calm as it gets.

The group by the train tracks is bigger than I expected, with not only initiates and trainers but also some fully-fledged Dauntless members waiting.

"Get ready, the train will be here any minute now."

Eric doesn't have to shout to make his orders heard, and an excited murmur runs through the group.

"I can't believe he's finally learned the damn schedule." Four mumbles under his breath, and the quick grin flashing over Eric's face makes me wonder what that was about.

When the train is upon us I wait for Kira and her group to get on it before me. They might not openly attack me in front of everybody, but I wouldn't put it past them to try and make me stumble under a moving train. Better safe than sorry. I fall into stride next to a car, and this time my arms pull me into the carriage almost effortlessly. The weeks of training have apparently paid off.

I have to suppress a yawn as the train rumbles along the tracks into the darkness. Everybody around me, initiates and Dauntless members alike, seems full of excitement and energy. I watch Dauntless members laugh about the fuss the initiates are making, their questions and theories about what exactly we'll be doing tonight running wild. The Dauntless born seem to have a pretty clear idea about what's going on, and I'm guessing from their comments that they have probably been looking forward to this night for quite a while now.

"I've been wanting to do this for ages. My sister keeps telling me the wildest stories ever since she became a member."

"Can't wait to kick your ass, Aaron."

"You wish, idiot. You won't even see me coming!"

"I heard Four beat Eric three years in a row and that that's why they can't stand to be around each other."

"Yeah, I really don't want to be near Eric if that happens again this year."

I perk up at this little piece of information. That Eric and Four can't stand each other is news to me. Sure, Eric is not particularly friendly towards Four, but I always attributed that to his general approach to people, not Four in particular. I would have thought there are other people ranking a lot lower on his favourite list, myself, Mia or the initiate who cried on his first day being some of them. My attempts to eavesdrop further are interrupted by the man himself.

"Alright everybody, listen up. Tonight, we're playing our war game. The rules are simple, just like capture the flag. This is an almost sacred Dauntless tradition so I suggest you take it seriously. We'll divide you into two teams, consisting of members and initiates, with Four and me as team captains. Each team gets a flag, the goal is to capture the other team's flag without losing your own."

The excitement in the carriage is almost palpable, and I'm starting to look forward to tonight's activities too. Eric drops the large bag he carried on his shoulder and opens it to reveal the menacing shimmer of guns.

"Are we going to shoot each other? With real guns?" The Dauntless born initiate who speaks can't quite keep the panicked hitch out of her voice. Eric sends her a cold grin.

"Each year I try to convince Max to give me live ammunition so I can get rid of all the idiot initiates in one smooth exercise, and each year he declines my request. So no, Mei, we're not going to use real guns. We're going to shoot stim-guns." He holds up something that looks like a mixture of a bullet, a dart and a syringe.

"Where's the fun in that, then?" Andrew's whisper to Kira carries through the carriage, and I'm not the only one grinning when Eric simply aims a gun at him and pulls the trigger. Andrew crashes into the carriage wall he was leaning against, clutching at his thigh, and I know that I'll happily remember his pained grunt for a long time. Eric cocks an eyebrow at him, daring him to speak up again, but Andrew has wisely decided that he mouthed off enough. Eric's smirk is quite nice to look at when it's not directed at me, and I wonder where that sudden realisation came from.

"Neuro-stim-darts. Simulate the pain of a real gunshot wound, but wear off in a couple of minutes. Any more questions?"

When nobody replies Eric nods at Four, who is watching from the corner of the carriage. "Choose your team and get ready to jump."

"Don't try to do me any favours, Eric." Fours voice is sure and confident, and there's a swagger to the way he carries himself that I haven't seen before. "You know I don't need them to win."

The two initiates who were talking about Eric and Four not getting along exchange a meaningful glance, but one look at Eric tells me that they must have been seriously exaggerating. I've seen him when he's truly angry or pissed, and the current expression on his face is far from it. He's not happy because he doesn't like being challenged, true, but there is none of the fury that makes his eyes go cold or his voice drop to that deadly whisper.

"Stop wasting my time then and chose your team."

Four gives a cursory glance over the people surrounding him. "Sano."

"Going for brute force this year, eh? Nice to see a change in tactics every once in while."

"Something like that, yeah. Your turn, Eric."

"I'll take Liam."

"Jason."

"Priya."

I'm not surprised when they work their way down the list of both Dauntless born and transfer initiates without ever mentioning my name, but still it stings. With all the unexpected kindness Eric has been displaying recently it's a necessary reminder of where I stand in his opinion and that of other people. I'm proud that I manage to keep my expression neutral when his gaze briefly settles on me as he takes in our group.

"That leaves my little slave with me."

None of the transfer initiates bat an eye any more at Eric's reference to me, but I feel the curious gaze of both Dauntless initiates and members on me. I keep my eyes on him to avoid having to look at anybody.

Four interrupts the suddenly tense moment.

"My team, get ready to jump."

He steps towards the open carriage door and launches himself into the darkness without another glance back. Moyo, another transfer, mumbles, "I knew it. We're all crazy, jumping out of a moving train without knowing where we're going." under her breath, but nevertheless she steps up to the gaping door and jumps off.

Soon it's only Eric's team, consisting of both Dauntless born and transfers and a few Dauntless members left on the train. Eric glances at his watch, seemingly counting down to something, before he tells us to get off the train as well. I don't wait for anyone to shove me off, too used by now to just follow Eric's movements, and so I jump right after him into the darkness. This time I'm ready for the momentum of the train, and all our running around has helped me figure out how best to hold my body when I'm jumping from a higher vantage point. Satisfaction fills me as I manage to keep my balance and fluidly move into jog, following Eric as he makes his way through unfamiliar streets.

 

\---------

 

"Where are we?" Liam asks when the whole group has gathered a short distance away from the train tracks.

"Can't you tell? We're close to Navy Pier, just east of Candor."

My head shoots up, my eyes locked on the tall black guy who just spoke. I've heard his voice before. This must be Eric's friend Marc. But what has piqued my interest isn't the fact that Eric apparently brought his friends along, but the realisation of where we are. Close to Candor. Close to home.

This is my chance.

If I manage to disappear tonight, if I can get away from Eric without him noticing for some time, then I can get to my family's house and ask them to run away with me before he'll have assembled a search party. We could somehow get rid of the tracker under my skin, and leave the city together. Luckily, my parents don't live too close to Candor headquarters, both of them preferring the more quiet areas towards the water. A sudden yearning for my family fills me, and for a moment I miss them so much I can hardly breathe.

I barely notice the other initiates discussing how best to defend our flag and get Four's at the same time. I'm too busy trying to figure out how to get away from Eric. My best chance is probably going to be a fight, either for our flag or the other team's. In the darkness it will be hard for him to keep track of just one person, especially since he has a whole team to supervise. There are other Dauntless members around, true, but none of them really know me or know what I'm capable of by now.

The others seem to have decided on a strategy, and I fall into step behind one group which is heading north. I'm doing my best to keep my head down whilst surreptitiously glancing around, trying to figure out who might raise the alarm if I'm suddenly gone, and who might just not care. Lucky for me, Kira and her gang are mostly on the other team, probably itching for the moment they'll be allowed to shoot at me. When I look around me again I realise that I'm actually the last member of our group, and I decide to not wait any longer. This might be an even better chance, with one group thinking I've gone ahead with the others, and the other one thinking I've stayed back to defend our flag.

As quietly as I can I turn left, ducking under some trees, back towards the train tracks and the city. It's hard to see, the moon is mostly hidden behind clouds tonight, and I have to take care not to walk full-face into a tree. The undergrowth seems determined to fight me off as well, roots tripping me and thorns catching my clothes with each step I take. I take a deep breath when I step onto a small clearing, happy to have escaped the wilderness, but all air seems to leave my body when I recognise the figure waiting for me.

"And where exactly do you think you're going?"

It has been some time since I've last heard Eric's cold Dauntless leader voice directed at me. I'm used to him showing at least some emotion, whether it's anger, exasperation, mischievousness or desire. I've forgotten how terrifying he can be when he goes completely cold, and a shiver runs down my spine. Still, I won't back down, even if he caught me doing what he explicitly told me not to.

"I'm going home."

The pride I feel when my voice doesn't falter is short-lived.

"Home?" He gives a short, bitter laugh. "There is no place like that for you any more. Do you really think Jeanine left your family alone after you ran? She believes in deterrence rather than education, and one of the first things she did when it became clear why you disappeared was rounding up your siblings and parents and detain them together with the families of all the other divergents on the run. There's a reason that the number of divergents keeps dropping, and it's not that there are fewer of you. It's because most people either don't get the chance to run or choose not to to keep their loved ones safe."

Deep down I must have expected or known this for a long time, because his words don't crush me as he must think they would. There is no added level of despair, no extra layer of hopelessness, just another reason to hate Jeanine Matthews. I'll have to change my goal, then. If I can't go on the run with the people who mean most to me, then I'll have to make her pay for what she did, not just to me, but to many others. And given my position as a slave of one of Dauntless' leaders, I'm probably in a better place than many to get close to her.

Still, I can't prevent a lonely tear from rolling down my cheek before I hastily wipe it away. Yet another door shut, another chance blown.

Eric still hasn't moved any closer to me, his face completely closed off and unreadable to me in the darkness. I would have expected him to gloat, to enjoy the fact that I gave him another reason to punish me, but instead he simply watches me, seemingly waiting for my next move.

I wish I had more time, wish I could talk my options through with somebody, but I'm all alone in this. There is no-one I can turn to but myself, and I'm not always the wisest of advisors. Fighting with all the strength I have left to keep my voice even I look straight at him.

"Can we go back to the war games, then?"

I can sense the surprise radiating off him. Whatever he thought I'd do, just accepting his statement and not react to it in any other way is not what he was expecting.

"Just like that, huh?" He sounds suspicious, searching for the lie, the deceit in what he just heard.

"Yeah, just like that." I can't quite suppress a shudder as I take a deep breath. "You've explained the situation quite clearly. And I see no point in throwing myself into a fight I can't win."

I wait for him to challenge me, to see through the bravado and tear apart the facade of fake calm I've erected. He must know that whatever I say, he's only one step away from breaking me completely, from destroying the person that challenges him constantly, from creating the obedient slave he's always wanted. I hunch my shoulders, waiting for the blow, but it never comes.

"Okay."

The single word, spoken with an edge to it, rings in the darkness. Eric gives me another hard look, before he turns and heads towards the shots that suddenly ring in the distance. Before I can second-guess myself I follow him.

  
\---------

  
By the time we reunite with our team it's all over. Four's winning streak has broken, and a beaming Liam waves a bright orange flag in Kira's face.

"Hey man, where have you been? Scott and I have been looking for you. You missed all the fun." Marc suddenly appears from the crowd, slapping Eric's shoulder and looking rather pleased with himself.

"We were scouting the outer area, making sure they couldn't get behind you. I didn't want one of you to whine at me endlessly about getting shot in the ass again." Eric's voice still has an edge to it, but he sounds normal otherwise. Marc gives him a quizzical look, but seems satisfied with the answer. A shorter guy with dark red hair appears on Eric's other side. I recognise his voice as that of Scott.

"Actually, oh fearless leader, it was only Mark who got hit this time. To my great disappointment all of your brilliant initiates managed to completely miss his backside, but at least he got hit twice. Incidentally, that's two times more than I did, and therefore Marc officially LOST this year."

Marc only growls an uninspired "Fuck you" in Scott's direction. This is obviously a never-ending challenge between them. Their teasing and bickering provides a welcome distraction as I follow them back towards the tracks and onto the train back to the compound. Eric keeps shooting me looks from time to time, but for the most part I'm left alone in the corner of the carriage where I stand. I meant what I said about not wanting to fight him any more. I won't try to beat him, won't try to escape. I won't draw attention to me and I'll try to follow most, if not all, of Eric's orders to the letter.

My new goal is to soak in whatever Dauntless initiation can teach me, and use it against Jeanine Matthews when I get the chance. It might take months or even years until I can get close to her, but when that day comes I'll be ready.

When that day comes she will die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for war games. Were you guys as excited as I am?
> 
> As always, I'm not above begging for your thoughts. Let me know how you liked it, what you thought of Eric's behaviour, how you like our main character, everything :)
> 
> Most importantly though, I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this bit :)


	11. Choose to live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again, much sooner than I expected. I'll be on holiday for the next two weeks, and I'm not sure if I'll be in the mood to spend much time in front of a computer screen, so the next chapter might not be around for a few weeks.
> 
> I found it incredibly hard to get myself to do anything other than lying around in this heat we've been having over here in Europe recently. I hope all of you are safe and unaffected by those horrible fires raging everywhere.
> 
> Anyway, have fun with this next chapter :) And, as always, please please please let me know what you think! Reviews really make my day.

When in doubt, choose to live.  
Terry Pratchett

  
\----------

  
Thud... Thud...Thud... The sound of my knives burying themselves into the target's chest is deeply satisfying. It was the bit of our training that I struggled with the most, and now I celebrate each hit with a mental high-five.

"You're getting rather good at this."

Jason next to me isn't doing badly himself, though his aim is off sometimes. To my big surprise, he hasn't been holding a grudge despite me winning against him in our first fight. He still talks to me, still treats me like any other initiate, and is even nice enough to offer encouragement when he feels he can get away with it unnoticed. Now is one of those moments. Eric, usually hovering somewhere in my vicinity, just stalked off to yell at an initiate who managed to miss every single throw. Four is observing a friendly sparring between Liam and Sano. And Kira and her gang are at the far side of the room, working on the punching bags.

It's our final day of stage one. All fights are done, and we're meant to train on our own, to work on the things we struggled with. Eric and Four made it clear that they're still watching us and will deduct points if they see somebody slacking off, but the atmosphere in the room hasn't been this relaxed in weeks.

"Thanks. Four wasn't lying when he said the training would pay off. Who knew."

Jason grins. "I think it also helps to not have him or Eric shouting in your ear as you're trying to concentrate."

"True. But it probably wouldn't give you the right vibe if you could actually think about what you're doing here."

"Please. Thinking about what you're doing isn't Dauntless style. We like to rush into things and then figure out what to do. At least that's the only way I can explain Liam's new hairstyle."

I almost burst out laughing. It's not uncommon for an initiate to show up to training with a new hair colour, tattoo or piercing, all of them trying hard to fit in with the style of their new faction. But none of us could stop staring when Liam showed up this morning with his hair died yellow and bright green on top. I don't know if it's intentional, but the close cropped shave on the sides and longer top hair now make him look like a pineapple.

"Maybe he lost a bet?"

"Or he's always been a huge fan of fruit salad."

This time I really can't suppress a giggle. Eric's head snaps around, his gaze zeroing in on us almost immediately, and I do my best to appear indifferent once more. My back straight and head held high, I look at my target, calculating the flow of the movement that'll get the next knife to stick. I throw Jason an apologetic look when Eric comes striding back towards us.

"Something funny, slave, initiate?"

"No, sir." Our response comes almost simultaneously.

"You think you have time for chitchat? Jason, do thirty laps around the room. After that I want to see a complete set of weight lifting routines. And you, show me that you've finally figured out which way the knife goes."

Jason takes off immediately, but not without sending me a small grin first. I almost envy him. Running seems the better option to being the single focus of Eric's attention yet again, but I'm more used to it by now. He doesn't throw me off me as much as he did in the beginning. Eric walks towards the target and marks certain spots on it with bright red tape. He gives it a critical look from the throwing line, then hands me a set of knives and steps directly behind me.

"Hit every single piece of tape and I'll consider forgiving you for slacking off."

His voice is a low rumble, his breath tickling my ear, and a shiver runs down my spine. This closeness is far more distracting than yelling would be, and I wish I had better control over the way my body reacts to him. He must know this, because a low chuckle makes his chest vibrate and confuses me even more. But I'm not about to lose points simply because Eric knows how to play my feelings. I focus on the locations he's marked for me, on the weight of the knives in my hand, and the sequence of movements necessary to make them hit their aim. I half turn to look at him.

"Are you going to actually give me space to throw?"

"Oh, I don't think so. I like how you feel against me, so I think I'll stay right here."

His piercings glint as he raises an eyebrow at me, and there is laughter sparkling in his eyes. He shifts his body a little to allow my right arm to move freely, but apparently that's all the leeway I'm going to get. Still, better than nothing.

Again, I focus on the task ahead of me, and before I can overthink it, I throw the first knife.

Fierce pride floods through me as I hit the little pieces of tape one after the other. Eric doesn't try to do anything to interfere with my throwing, but he doesn't move away either. I can't stop myself from letting out a satisfied "YES!" when the last knife sinks deep into what would be the jugular on a living person. What I'm not prepared for is Eric's praise whispered into my ear.

"Well done. Maybe I should start hiding the knives in the apartment."

I grin, relishing my success, and murmur, "What makes you think I haven't already done that?"

"You hurt me, wildcat. I always hoped you'd try something more personal and up close when it comes to attacking me."

Eric gives my hips a squeeze before he finally steps away. He winks at me as I turn around, but he's already on his way to shout at another initiate before I can come up with a reply.

  
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Twelve. I almost don't believe my eyes when I see the number next to my name on the board in the training room. Suddenly my knees go weak and I struggle to hide a stumble. I didn't dare to believe that I might actually make it. Despite all the progress, despite fights won and targets hit, deep down I thought Eric was just playing with me when my name stayed above the red line day after day. That he tried to create a false sense of security, only to tear me down at the last minute.

But it's right there. I'm ranked twelfth between both Dauntless born and transfer initiates. This is the official announcement of who will make it through to the next stage, and even Max, the head of Dauntless leadership, has made an appearance to give a little speech. His deep voice rings through the training room.

"Congratulations to those of you who made it through stage one. You've taken the first important step to become a true member of Dauntless. You've proven that you're not afraid of a challenge, that you're willing to push yourself, and that we can count on you in a fight. You've learned the basics of what you need to know to become true Dauntless soldiers one day. The next stage will either get you there or break you. It will challenge you, and we expect each and every one of you to give it your best shot. But for tonight, celebrate and be proud of your achievements."

Around me, shouts erupt and fists punch the air, initiates celebrating their success. Groups come together, people hug and yell and shove each other playfully. I try to blend into the background. This moment makes it more obvious that I'm not really one of them, that there are few people who might care that I'm still around, and none who would go so far as to congratulate me. I look at the board again, but to my relief Jason's name is well above the red line as well.

From my spot at the back of the room I notice the Dauntless soldiers who step up towards the crestfallen faces in the room. Not all initiates passed this first stage. For ten people these are the last few minutes they'll spend within a faction. I hope they are ready for it, that they're strong enough to survive as Factionless. At least Dauntless has equipped them with some fighting and survival skills.

Briefly I wonder if it would have made a difference had I known how to fight when I lived on the streets of Chicago myself. Probably not. My main goal was always evading Dauntless patrols, and knowing how to fight would not have helped me against their coordinated attack.

Soldiers round up the initiates who didn't make it, leading them out of the room. Kira's gang loses two members, but I don't feel sorry for them.

I watch for a few more minutes as the scene around me turns into the mayhem that is a Dauntless party, before I walk towards the door. Eric told me to go back to his flat after the announcement, but that he would get dinner in the mess hall. The other initiates will no doubt celebrate until the morning, and part of me wants to go out and party with them. The more sensible side of me knows, however, that there's nothing to be gained from disobedience tonight, and that I most likely wouldn't be welcomed anyway. Going home is the better choice.

  
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I don't know when I started to refer to Eric's flat as home. But it feels right. It's my retreat, the place where I can let my guard down and be myself. It's where Eric and I have found an odd balance, a harmony in being around and dealing with each other. Where me being Divergent strangely doesn't seem to matter any more. Where I can take a break from the constant observation I'm under and just breathe. It's weird that the place that is meant to be my prison has also become my sanctuary.

Surprisingly, Eric isn't far behind me. I would have expected him to go out and enjoy the party that seems to have developed throughout the compound. Instead he steps through the door not even an hour after I came home, just as I finish wiping down the coffee table.

"I like the sight of you on your knees before me. Suits you."

Where this comment would have made me freeze during my first week or set my temper aflame during the month after, it now only makes me grin.

"And here I thought preferred me underneath you on a training mat. More personal and up close?"

Eric laughs, a deep real laugh, and I can't help but smile at the sound of it. When he's not doing his best to make my life miserable he's quite fun to be around. I get up as he walks towards me. There is still laughter dancing in his eyes, but they're also taking on a predatory glint.

"If it's more personal and up close you want I think I can help you with that."

His low voice sends a pleasant tingle down my spine. My fingers itch to reach out and touch him, to feel warm skin over taunt muscle, the soft hair at the nape of his neck, the sharp ridges of his face. And why should I deny them? The message in his grey eyes is clear, and I am happy to oblige. My hands find a familiar place on his waist, easily slipping underneath the soft fabric of his T-shirt. I raise my chin and look straight at him.

"I'm starting to think you're all talk and no action."

"Think again, wildcat." is all he growls, before crashing his lips against mine. He towers over me in this position, his much bigger frame almost enveloping me. I eagerly return his kisses, my hands running up and down his back. Nevertheless, he seems to grow impatient, something obviously not quite how he wants it.

I stop wondering what it is when his hands are suddenly on my ass and he murmurs "Hold on" against my lips.

He easily lifts me up, strong arms holding me to him as I cross my arms behind his neck. His lips don't leave mine, the sensation familiar and yet distracting, as he walks us through the room. I give a small sound of surprise when he drops me on the kitchen counter. It doesn't take me long to realise that this position brings us much closer in height, and I waste not time pulling him back towards me and slowly dragging my lips along his jawline and down his throat.

My hands play with the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck, and I run my nails down his skin lightly. The appreciative hum I get is a good start, and when he buries his hands in my hair and pulls me back towards him I eagerly return his kisses. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry tonight and neither am I, both of us content to draw out our kissing, explore with our hands, tease with little nips and build the passion slowly.

Suddenly, there is one thing I need to know. He has told me many times before, but somehow I wonder whether his answer is still going to be the same. Whether I'm wrong to think something is slowly changing between us. So I pull away from him, drawing back until only our foreheads are touching and we can both catch our breath. This question has been developing in my head since he simply let me go back to initiation after war games with no further punishment or questions asked.

It's almost impossible to ask while we're this close, while our breath still mingles and our hands are buried in each others hair. But I need to know, and I will be Dauntless now.

"What if I wanted to stop?"

The look in his storm grey eyes is indecipherable. Silence stretches between us, the only sounds I hear are Eric's harsh breathing and the racing of my heartbeat. The longer he takes to answer, the more I can feel my courage slipping, the little spark of hope flickering out. I know what his answer will be then, and though I've heard it before, I didn't think it would hurt this much to be told yet again that what I want doesn't matter. That I don't matter. That I'm nothing but a convenient body. An object to use.

I can't look at him any longer, leaning back slightly and dropping my eyes to his chest instead. It doesn't change anything, and I know I need to be strong, that I need to pull myself together again. I want to withdraw even further, but the tightening of his hands on my shoulders stops me. He's not going to be patient.

His voice is quiet, but there is no doubt that he's sincere in what he says.

"Then we'll stop."

It takes a few seconds for his words to register in my brain. And when they do, I can't help but stare at him helplessly. Despite hoping, I never really thought this is what he'd say. A small distrustful part of my brain reminds me that I've been lied to and betrayed before. That Eric didn't get to where he is if he didn't know exactly what to say to get what he wants. That he can probably lie through his teeth. But this voice is drowned out by his next words, each of them spoken in Eric's Dauntless leader voice, and yet without the malice and coldness that it usually holds.

"I don't exactly want to. But if it's what you want then we'll stop."

Somehow hearing him speak this way, seeing the expression on his face, makes it easier to believe him. I suddenly feel much lighter, as if the joy of passing stage one has only just caught up with me. I smile and shake my head at him.

"I don't want to stop."

The satisfied sound he makes is reward enough as he pulls me back towards him, and his lips find mine again.

  
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When we finally make it to the bedroom we're both exhausted. Something changed between us. I can't say whether it happened tonight or way before then. But it felt different being in his arms tonight. As if a weight had been lifted off me, or a breeze of fresh air blown through Dauntless.

Tonight I was as needy as him in my desires, and for the first time since coming here felt like I mattered. There was no more talking after his admission, and there is none now. We just about managed to take a shower and then stumble into bed together, exhausted from long days of training, work, and delicious sex. My body is tingling and my limbs feeling pleasantly heavy.

As I fall asleep, Eric's reassuring presence behind me, I feel confident about the next stage. How bad can it possibly get?

  
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Simulations! I stagger into the bathroom and just manage to make it to the toilet before I lose control over my stomach and empty its contents into the bowl. My body is shaking violently, sweat, tears and snot running down my face. It takes forever for the retching to stop and even longer for the dry heaves to subside that follow. Finally my stomach calms down enough for me to flush and stumble towards the sink to wash my face and clean my teeth. I splash myself with cold water, trying to rub off the panic that stills runs through me. I thought that I was ready for whatever stage two entailed, that it would be easy compared to stage one, but I didn't expect this.

When it was my turn to step into the ominous room I was nervous but determined. None of the initiates who had gone before me came back this way, but nothing indicated that something truly bad was happening in there. My confidence crumbled the moment Four finished his explanations about the simulations, about how they'd bring up my worst fears, and that I had to overcome them. In my case, he said, there was a little problem, as the trainers knew that as a Divergent I would be aware of the simulation itself. So it was decided that for me simply getting the simulation to stop wouldn't be enough, I would have to do it Dauntless style, by fighting through my fears instead of evading them.

Four was almost apologetic when he gave me the first shot of the serum. Something must have told him that my panic was due to something other than simply having to live through my deepest fears. He couldn't have known that the view of the syringe filled with serum alone was enough to make my heart race, and that I had gone through too many simulations already to not have my fears amplified by the sheer thought of yet another one.

 

I don't think he knew what exactly Erudites do when they say they are "researching Divergents", but when I woke up after my fear simulation replaying the worst memories of Jeanine and her lab, his gaze was focused on his computer screen, his skin a sickly grey. I didn't wait for him to dismiss me, instead setting off as quickly as possible, desperately trying to keep my lunch down until I made it home safely.

I have seen the pale, haunted face before, that greets me when I look into the mirror. My eyes had the same expression when I first came to Dauntless, with weeks of Erudite hanging over me like dark shadows. I have gained weight since and the memories faded, but now they have been brought back in full force. I didn't want to see that fearful, beaten down person again. I was quite happy to be gaining my confidence back.

Cursing Jeanine seems to give me enough strength to pull myself together long enough to clean my teeth and scrub the toilet. But when I'm finished I collapse against the wall again, doing my best to not think about anything at all.

I try to snap out of it, but each time I want to get up my stomach starts retching again, and so I decide to just stay put for now. I'm still sitting in the bathroom when Eric comes back from whatever leadership duty he disappeared to this morning. I don't know what time it is exactly, but I'm guessing that I should have started preparing dinner quite some time ago. I look up as the door opens.

I've gotten better at reading Eric's facial expressions, and I'm glad for now to detect no impatience or annoyance in his grey eyes. Instead, they hold a look that on another person might be called concern. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as he leans against the door frame.

"Enjoying the fear sims?"

The question is spoken without malice. I shrug.

"I really wish I didn't know that my fears are real. I think that would be easier somehow."

Eric gives me a knowing look.

"Everybody's fears are real for them. That's what makes this stage so much harder than the first. But everybody handles their fears differently. Some people freeze, some people hide, and some people act. Freezing or hiding is not your style. You prefer to rush into things, and you're too impatient to hide for long. You need to find your way of gaining control over the situation. Once you've done that it will be easier."

I didn't expect him to be patient, much less understanding, and his calm analysis leaves me speechless. A few times already I've had the impression that he didn't set me up to fail initiation. That he actually wants me to pass. But this is the first time he gives me advice openly, without hiding it in an insult or behind the pretence of punishment. I feel calmer already, and I slowly push myself up to stand.

"Is that what you did? Gained control and never let go?" I can't decide whether I mean it as an insult or a genuine question, and a smirk is all the reply I get.

"Wouldn't you like to know. Come on now, I've brought back dinner from the canteen."

Sitting opposite Eric and eating the food that he brought I feel reminiscent of the first night I spent here. He was watching me as intently then as he is now, seemingly waiting for something, though what it is I don't know. But whereas his stares unnerved me in the beginning I'm now unafraid to meet his eyes when we're alone.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I try to diffuse the strange tension that has suddenly settled over the dining table. For a second I think I might even get an honest answer. Eric looks torn, incapable or unwilling to lie. Just as he opens his mouth there's an urgent knock on the door.

"Stay where you are." Eric's instruction is clear. My stomach still feels a bit queasy and I don't mind not having to deal with whoever is in front of Eric's door tonight. His dislike for being disturbed is obvious from the way he squares his shoulders and raises his chin. He doesn't open the door far enough for the person waiting outside feeling invited to step in.

"Mate, you need to come. Jeanine's on her way here to discuss the first round of simulations. And you know how she gets."

Scott's voice has a nervous tinge to it, and terror creeps up my spine at the idea of Jeanine being near me right now. All promises about killing her aside, today's simulations have reopened some wounds that haven't had enough time to heal, and I'm nowhere ready to face her just yet.

"Yeah, I fucking know. I'm guessing she's about to invade the fear landscape room again?"

"She's not here yet, but Max told me to set everything up for her. I just wanted to stop by first to let you know."

"I'll be right there."

Eric hasn't moved from his position by the door. He throws me a glance and briefly nods towards the bedroom. For once, obedience seems like a great way out. I'm about to grab the rest of my dinner to put it into the fridge, but one look at Eric tells me that he's growing impatient. Whatever he wants to discuss with Scott, it's obvious that he won't do it with me around. I leave the door to the little corridor ajar when I head towards the bedroom. However, Eric has already seen through my flimsy plan, and a distinct slam defeats my hopes of being able to eavesdrop once more.

  
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Eric doesn't return for hours. And with nothing to occupy myself as I lie in bed, I grow restless. Whilst I didn't have trouble falling asleep before, there is too much on my mind tonight. The simulation I underwent this afternoon. The dark memories of my time in Erudite. The fear I have seen today, and the ones that might show up tomorrow. The weird and conflicting emotions I feel about Eric. The way he effortlessly switches between making my life miserable and making sure I overcome all the challenges he throws at me.

Thoughts are running wild in my head, a conjured picture of Eric fraternising with Jeanine at the forefront. Somehow, all my fear and loathing towards Erudite are focussed on her, the embodiment of cold, scientific perfection. My feelings for Magnus have subsided, from hot, dark hate to indifference. His betrayal hurt most when I thought I loved him. Now, I only feel the same dislike towards him as for the rest of his faction.

At some point, rain starts pelting the window, and I lose myself in watching raindrops running down the glass. It occurs to me that this will be the first time in two years when I'll be safe from the winds and heavy rains of autumn. The sound of the rain is oddly soothing, and it's only the slamming of the front door and Eric's heavy footsteps that pull me from my reverie.

One look at the stormy expression on his face tells me that whatever he was doing tonight, he did not enjoy it. Maybe he didn't like having to leave again when he had something different planned for the evening, maybe it was whatever work he was tasked with, maybe he didn't like spending time with Jeanine.

He doesn't speak as he enters the bedroom. His entire demeanour screams rejection and dismissal as he stalks through the door and vanishes into the bathroom, and I decide that holding my tongue might be the best strategy for tonight. Still, I can't help but glance towards the bathroom door as the sound of the shower falls silent.

Even after months of having lived with him I'm not immune the sight of him wearing only black boxers, his hair still damp from the shower, water droplets clinging to the skin of his neck. I never thought I'd go for the big, bulky type, but I've stopped lying to myself long ago and finally admitted that I'm attracted to him. Some of the tension has left his tall frame, but he seems incredibly worn and tired as he steps back into the bedroom. A strange feeling shoots through me at the sight of his exhausted face, and I suddenly realise that I'm genuinely concerned for him. Concerned for Eric. My supposed owner.

Eric climbs into bed with me before I can figure out what to do with this realisation. I'm not surprised when he reaches for me, but instead of kissing me or starting to tease the many places on my body he now knows so well by now, he simply pulls me towards him and throws his arm over me.

"Stop thinking so loudly. I can almost hear your thoughts. Go to sleep." His voice is tired, mumbling, already half asleep. And whilst I want to stay awake and figure out why I suddenly feel worry for Eric of all people, my eyes are getting heavier. I'm comfortable and warm. Lying with my back against Eric's chest, his arm lazily slung over me, I feel safe for the first time in I don't know how long.

  
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No matter what Eric says, it doesn't get much better the next few days. My biggest achievement is probably that I manage to have enough control over my stomach to not throw up after each and every simulation. Though that might also be because I stopped eating lunch altogether. I saw Erudite again in my simulations, hurting both me and my sister. I saw my family turning away from me, telling me they were disgusted and ashamed. I ran from faceless strangers hunting me. I desperately tried to reach the centre of a maze with no idea why and time running out. I fell into a never-ending abyss, my throat raw from screaming as I woke up. I was covered under a crawling mass of spiders, their tiny razor-sharp claws tearing my clothes and skin.

It takes me longer to fall asleep at night, no matter how exhausted my body might feel. Most nights this week I simply lie there, listening to Eric's even breathing. The combined terror of having to deal with the memories of Erudite and my deepest fears at the same time makes me resist the temptation of sleep for as long as possible. If I don't sleep I can't have nightmares. I've caught Eric shooting me a look that might be called worried on another person, but he hasn't said anything so far. Unfortunately he also hasn't offered another piece of advice on how I could best defeat my fears.

When I step into the simulation room for the next round of sims I'm beyond tired. Which is why it takes me a moment to realise that Four isn't the only one sitting by the computer today, waiting for me. Eric's looming presence makes the room seem much smaller than it is.

"What are you doing here?"

I blame my overly tired brain. Whatever ceasefire exists between us doesn't extend beyond the walls of his flat, and I shouldn't have questioned his right to be here in front of Four. Eric's brows draw together, annoyance passing over his face.

"I can't remember asking you to open your mouth. Sit down and shut up so we can get this over with, and I can go back to doing actual work instead of babysitting."

"Yes, sir."

I don't look at either him or Four when Four brings the syringe close to my neck, opting to stare at the wall instead, each muscle taunt to prevent myself from flinching as the needle is buried deep into my skin. Nevertheless my eyes search Eric's when I start feeling the familiar drag and the simulation slowly takes hold of me.

  
\----------

  
His grey eyes are the first thing I see when I open my eyes again. He's standing in front of me, tall but relaxed, hands held loosely at his side. We're in an empty room, the darkness lingering in the corners impenetrable, and only Eric is standing in the light. His gaze is mesmerising and I can't look away. Involuntarily I take a step towards him. It's only then that muffled sounds coming from a corner of the room register in my brain.

I have to squint my eyes to truly see, but the longer I focus the more clearly they come into view. Mum. Dad. Nicky. Daniel and Leo. All of them bound and gagged, cuts and bruises adorning their faces. I can't stop staring. My heart feels as if it's going to break.

"I finally have what I wanted."

Eric's voice is cold as ice, and I whip around to face him.

"What are you talking about? Why are they here? What did you do?" I have to concentrate hard to stop myself from screaming.

"I used you to get to them. It was easy to lure them here when I said they could come and see you. We don't need any more freaks like you. Your families can't be allowed to continue to exist. We have to eradicate each and every one of you. Our society needs to be kept pure. And for that, the easiest way is to not only kill you but your family as well."

As he speaks he lifts his right arm and turns. It's only now that I notice that his hand wasn't empty. He's holding a gun which is now pointed at my mother. I jump forward, desperate to bring my body between her and Eric, to shield her from him and his terrible coldness. Something cold and unyielding grabs hold of my ankle and I crash to the ground. Tears burn in my eyes when I narrowly manage to avoid biting off the tip of my tongue as my chin collides with the floor. It's only now that I notice the shackle on my ankle. I'm chained to the wall like an animal.

"No. What are you doing? They didn't do anything. They're innocent, they're normal people. Please let them go. Please."

I'm starting to panic now. Eric's steady advance on my family has slowed, and he turns to look at me, crawling on the floor, my hands straining towards him, tears threatening to fall. Triumph glimmers in his eyes, and the gun in his hand doesn't waver for a second.

"Why would I do that? Why shouldn't I rid the world of freaks like you lot?"

"I'll do whatever you want. Please. I promise I'll be good. I'll do whatever you say and never misbehave. Please. Please let them go and I'll give you whatever you want."

I can hardly speak now, sobs shaking my whole body and tears running down my face. Eric's face twists into a truly beautiful smile, before he turns and shoots my mother right between the eyes. I scream, unable to keep the pain inside any longer. He continues to shoot my father and siblings in quick succession, his aim efficient and deadly.

When he turns back to me I've collapsed in a heap on the ground, screaming and sobbing, clawing at myself. Eric walks towards me and drops to a knee beside me. With a gentle hand he lifts my chin towards him. I can hardly see him through the tears blurring my eyes. There is no ounce of regret or compassion in his voice as he whispers.

"I already have everything I want. I only needed you to get to them. And now that they've been taken care of, it's your turn."

I feel more than see the muzzle of the gun pressing against my temple before I don't feel anything at all.

  
\----------

  
Four gives me a strange look as I get out of the chair. Surely it can't come as a surprise to him that apparently deep down I'm afraid Eric will kill me? I keep my gaze glued to the ground and will myself not to shake as I slowly make my way towards the door. Even though I live with Eric every day, this simulation has brought up something raw and vulnerable in me. I'm glad he makes no inclination to follow me as I make to leave the room. I need to rebuild my mental strength before I face him again. This simulation has shaken me, more than any of the others before. I didn't even think about how to influence it, how I could have used my Divergence to get out of it.

As the door closes behind me I hear Four's voice drifting towards me.

"You know, it was high time for you to show up in one of her fears. Jeanine was getting impatient..."

The door falls shut, blocking out Eric's reply, and for a moment I relish in the silence surrounding me. My steps sound almost unnaturally loud to my own ears as I walk through the corridors of the Dauntless compound, deliberately taking a route that will take me longer but keep me out of sight of most people. A million thoughts run through my head at the same time. Am I really afraid of Eric? Do I really believe he'd kill me? Despite everything, what has he actually done that would warrant the pictures my mind conjured up under the influence of the serum? Am I deluding myself when I think he doesn't actually despise me as much as he's meant to, that in a warped way he might be trying to help me through initiation somehow?

Or is what I just saw a manifestation of a deeper rooted fear, of somebody I trust ultimately betraying me? Given the experience with Magnus this would actually make sense. But why was it Eric showing up in my fear then? Does this mean that I trust him? Despite everything? And why did Four sound almost relieved when he told Eric it was time for him to show up in one of my fears?

I'm so lost in thought that by the time I hear footsteps behind me it's already too late. A hand grabs my shoulder and slams me against the wall, making stars dancing in front of my eyes. I want to shout out, but a piece of fabric is shoved into my mouth, making me gag. My attacker is efficient, pushing my body against the wall, capturing my hands behind my back, and using his body weight to keep me in check.

The voice next to my ear is unfamiliar as he growls, "Took you long enough to come here, freak. You must be quite something if Eric keeps coming back for more. I've been waiting months for this, so I hope you're worth it."


	12. Defeat and victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear all, 
> 
> I'm truly sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. I was really ill for a couple of weeks, and have only slowly been getting better recently. Just lying in bed and not being able to do anything for weeks is not something I'm used to, and it was slowly driving me mad... I'm also moving house soon, so real life is going to require some time. But I haven't given up on this story, and I promise I'll keep updating until it's finished!
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy the next chapter in Linna's and Eric's story.
> 
> Trigger warning: Violence and attempted rape between the sections marked as below. 
> 
> \----------
> 
> xxxxxxxxx
> 
> \----------

If a victory is told in detail, one can no longer distinguish it from defeat.  
Jean-Paul Sartre

  
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xxxxxxxxx

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It takes a second for my mind to catch on, but my body reacts to the attack immediately. Weeks of Dauntless training, endless preparations and fights have paid off. Whilst I can't move my arms, my attacker is not really restricting my legs. I thrash, throwing my shoulder backwards, aiming for whoever is holding me, whilst at the same time trying to kick at him with my foot. I need to hit his knee, hurt him somehow, distract him so I have a chance of getting away.

"Ow, fucking bitch!"

The fingers holding my wrists lose their grip, and I manage to wrestle one of my hands free. I blindly hit behind me, not knowing where to aim my elbow. It connects with my attackers rib cage, another hiss and sound of pain my reward. I use the momentum my blow gives me, turning around as best I can to get a glimpse of the guy who's still holding onto my other wrist. All I see is slightly shaggy, sandy hair and a face I don't recognise. Who is this guy? Why is he doing this?

He yanks on my arm, pushing me back against the wall. Much as I try, he's stronger than me, and manages to bring my other hand behind my back again with some cursing. His full weight on me I gag, the fabric in my mouth making it hard to breathe, and panic starting to narrow my view. Not again! Whatever he's planning, I have to get away from him! I've been in this situation too often, I just know that if I don't get away, I won't survive it this time.

Something sharp and unyielding is wrapped around my wrist, the zip tie biting deep into my skin. Again I try to buck him off, but he's prepared now, grabbing my head and crashing it into the wall. My knees buckle and I slump side-wards down the wall. The pain in my head is almost blinding. It's a struggle to hold on to consciousness, but I can't faint, not now, not while I'm still deep in a Dauntless corridor with a guy I've never seen before standing over me. The feeling of blood pooling over my eye and dripping down my face is already too familiar.

He roughly grabs my arm, yanking me back on my feet and half carries, half drags me along the corridor. I can't really focus my eyes, but I think I recognise the door he throws open as that of a storage room. I've never been in there, but Tris pointed them out to me ages ago.

The door slams shut and I'm roughly thrown on the ground in front of him. My chin hits the floor hard, the shock not helping my already dizzy brain. Panic threatens to choke me, as I realise that he's manoeuvred me into a room, that the chances of somebody somehow coming to my aid are slim. The thought scares me, but it also makes me angry. I'm sick and tired of being thrown around like a rag doll. Whatever he wants from me, he won't get it that easily. I'll make him realise that I'm not the weak little slave he might think I am.

His steps coming closer I braze myself. When he grabs my shoulder to turn me around I pull my legs towards me and lash out towards him, my boots connecting with his rib cage. His howl as he tumbles towards the wall is music to my ears.

My hands are still tied too tightly behind my back, but I manage to hastily pull myself up. I more stumble than walk towards the exit, all my thoughts directed towards escaping this room and this guy. I'm just bending my body to hook my elbow around the handle when something sharp and cold cuts through my shirt and easily nicks the skin underneath my ribs. I freeze.

"Easy now, bitch. You've had your fun, now it's time to pay." He says it in a weird sing-song way, that makes shivers run down my spine. His breath goes fast, exertion evident from his voice. He didn't expect me to fight back, I think.

I'm focused now on the feeling of the knife pressing against me, cutting into my skin. He directs me into the middle of the room, and points towards the floor.

"Get down on the floor, like the whore that you are."

The knife in his hand assures my compliance for now. With as much dignity as I can muster I kneel.

"On your back. Don't make me tell you twice. I'm sure you're very familiar with this position by now."

I don't want to lie down in front of him, but he doesn't wait for me to follow his orders anyway. His kick hits me right underneath the shoulder blades, and I fall onto my face yet again. I struggle to breathe through my nose, the piece of fabric cutting off most of the air supply to my lungs.

This time I don't struggle when he drags me towards the wall. He cuts through the zip tie that hold my hands, quickly replacing it with a new one and tying them to the rack over my head. He crouches in front of me, the knife dangling lazily from his hand. He looks at me intently, like he is studying a wild animal. Blood has started dripping down my forehead again, but I hold his gaze anyway. I won't cower and beg any more. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.

"You know, I was going to just knock you out and hand you over to Jeanine, but after that stunt you pulled I think we're first going to have a little fun together, you and I."

I don't like what he's suggesting, don't like the tone of his voice or the gleam in his eyes. He slowly brings the knife forward until the tip gets caught in the neck of my shirt.

"Let's get rid of that. You don't need it anyway."

Goosebumps run down my body as he slowly cuts open my shirt, leaving a few shallow cuts along the way. His eyes follow the slow movement of the knife hungrily. Much as I try, I can't stop myself from flinching when his hand shoves the broken pieces of my shirt further apart to roughly grab my breast. His hand feels cold and clammy on my skin, and I want nothing more than to shove him away from me.

"Aww, did I hurt you? Don't worry, freak, we're just getting started." His hand moves down my body towards my stomach. "Your skin is so soft. I wonder if I can draw on it."

I bite down on the fabric in my mouth when he drags his knife across my belly, leaving shallow cuts and slashes on my skin. Every cut brings another wave of pain, another flash of memory to Erudite, and fighting the scream building in my throat gets harder and harder. I can't suppress a grunt of pain when he buries the tip of his knife deep in my thigh.

"Does it hurt, bitch? There's a lot more where this is coming from." He grins, arousal evident in the bulge in his dark jeans and the expression on his face.

He throws the knife to the side, only to grab my leggings and pull them down my legs. He's fiddling with his trousers, one hand pushing my arm to the ground, when the door suddenly slams open.

  
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"What the FUCK do you think you're doing with my property?"

The rage in Eric's voice is unmistakable, and I've never been so relieved to hear him refer to me as his possession. If he'll just make this stop he can call me whatever he likes. I'm tired, I don't have much fight left in me.

My attacker freezes, fear flitting over his face before he schools it into a false smile that he must think charming. Whatever his plans, they apparently didn't allow for Eric to find him before he was through with me and had handed me over to Erudite. He doesn't let go of my arm, doesn't try to hide what he was doing to me, but turns towards the door where Eric towers, muscles tense and eyes blazing with fury.

"Eric, man, it's not what it looks like. See, I heard that Jeanine wanted your little slave back for some testing, and I thought I'd just help out, since you're so busy all the time."

He tries very hard to appear confident, but his voice loses its conviction and speed. Eric's slow, measured steps bring him closer to us until he's standing close to my hip. My attacker takes his hands off me and gets up slowly. Their difference in height and build is obvious from where I'm lying on the ground, and I can see the other guy gulp when it dawns on him that Eric is seriously pissed.

"Step away, Peter. Right fucking now."

Peter. So that's his name. I try to remember where and when I've heard this name before, but my mind is fuzzy, pain pounding through it in waves.

Eric's barely restrained fury is palpable and Peter takes a step back, almost tripping over my leg. He's trying a different tactic now, less cocky, more placating.

"Come on, man, I was just doing you a favour. You know that Jeanine usually gets what she wants. I'm sure she has another little piece of ass lined up for you already." He sends me a leer. "Though I have to admit, she does feel quite good. You've trained her well, I'd say."

Eric's movements are too fast for my aching brain and tired eyes to follow, but the sound of his fist hitting Peter's jaw is very satisfying. Peter stumbles back, bringing his arms up further to protect himself, but Eric's attacks are merciless, blows raining down on Peter relentlessly. A final left to the temple brings him down completely. He topples over, his head cracking against the cold stone floor, and stops moving altogether.

For the first time since he entered the room, Eric's eyes are on me, taking in everything from the cut on my temple to the gaping holes in my shirt, the cuts in my skin or the way my leggings and underwear are half-shoved down my thighs. Suddenly I start shivering, the rush of adrenaline leaving my body cold. Eric crouches down next to me, intently examining my face, before he slowly reaches out to pull the piece of fabric from my mouth.

The first deep breath comes shuddering, my lungs almost unable to handle the gulps of air I'm taking in. From the corner of my eye I see something glimmer in Eric's hand, but he has cut through the zip tie still binding my hands before I fully register the knife he holds. It disappears into its hiding place somewhere in his uniform again. I bring my hands down, needles rushing up and down my arms after being forced into the same position for too long. Eric leans back a little as I sit up and try to fix what's left of my clothing, but he doesn't move from his crouching position between Peter and me.

It's only now that tears start burning behind my eyes, and I stare straight ahead, clasping my hands in my lap to hide the shaking. Bile rises in my throat. I swallow hard to keep the bitter taste down, and bite my lip hard to keep the tears at bay. I will not cry, not when the man who did this to me is within a few feet of me, and I still have a walk through the entire compound ahead of me. They will not see me weak. They will not see me fail. But I also can't look at Eric, or I'll break.

"You okay?"

He sounds unusually quiet, uneasy, as if he's unsure of how to handle a situation like this. The question is laughable, but I simply nod. I don't trust my voice not to betray the anger and sorrow and despair that I feel. Remaining quiet is the safer option.

"Can you get up?"

Another nod. Everything hurts, and my head starts spinning wildly the moment I'm standing upright. Eric has been getting up with me, and his hand is on my arm steadying me before I can fall over again. His touch feels so different from Peter's, his hand on me familiar and comforting instead of bruising for once.

He throws me a calculating look, trying to establish if I can stand on my own, and after a brief moment lets go of my arm and walks towards the door. He holds it open for me and gestures towards the corridor.

"Wait for me out there. I have something to discuss with Peter before we go back."

I'm too wound up, too hurt, too busy with trying to somehow hold my clothes and myself together to really understand what he's talking about. I leave the storage room without looking back at the figure slumped on the floor. I lean against the wall outside and squeeze my eyes shut. If I try hard enough I can pretend today never happened.

  
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Not a sound comes from the now closed door of the storage room. I just want Eric to come back quickly so we can go home. I feel dirty, the memory of Peter's touch making my skin crawl. I want nothing more than a hot shower to wash him off me.

I don't know how long I've been standing out here in the corridor before Eric steps out of the storage room alone. His expression changed from absolutely murderous to something akin to satisfaction. I know him well enough to see that he's still furious, but he has himself under control as he puts his hand on my arm to direct me down the hallway.

The way through the compound passes in a blur. I follow Eric's unspoken directions, simply trusting his presence next to me to get me home safely. When we step through the door to his flat it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulder. I can hide here. Maybe not from Eric, but from everything else.

I don't ask nor wait for his permission before I walk towards the bathroom, and he doesn't call me back. My clothes are ruined, and I throw them into a corner carelessly. I just can't be bothered right now to follow Eric's rules of tidiness.

The water is cold when I step under the spray, but turns warmer as I slowly wash the blood off my face and body. I idly watch pink swirls and curls wash down the drain, soap and shampoo burning when they come in contact with the cuts all over my body. I scrub my skin furiously. I can still feel Peter's hands on me, the clamminess of his touch, the disgust in his voice.

Maybe I can wash him off me if I turn up the heat of the water. Steam starts clouding the shower and the bathroom, but I don't feel clean yet. The redness of my skin is another sign of Peter, evidence that he touched me. I need to be clean before I can step out of the shower.

I'm so absorbed in rubbing my skin that it's a shock when the door to the shower opens and an arm in a black T-shirt reaches around me to shut off the water.

"Fucking hell, are you trying to boil yourself alive?"

I blink at Eric for a moment, water dripping off my body, and pink streaks marking the cuts that are still bleeding lightly. Why did he turn off the water? Doesn't he want me to be clean? I reach for the tap again, but Eric's hand closes round my wrist before I can turn the water back on.

"Let me turn on the water. I need to clean up."

I sound demanding, more forceful than I intend to, but I don't care. Even if Eric doesn't mind that I'm dirty, I do, and I want to wash Peter and the rest of this horrible day off me.

"You've been in here for half an hour. You're clean. You need to come out and let me look at those cuts."

He doesn't get it. How can he not see that I still have Peter all over me? That these cuts are nothing compared to the poison of Peter's touch?

"I'm not. I can still feel him all over me. I'll just wash him off and then I'll come out, I promise."

My voice has taken on a shrill hue, and something like pain flickers in Eric's eyes. Instead of letting go of me however, he pulls me towards himself and wraps a towel around my shoulders. Effectively trapping me against his body he lifts me up and steps out of the shower. I'm too agitated by now to realise that this is the closest I've ever come to being hugged by Eric.

"What are you doing? I'm not finished yet. Let me go."

With each second I'm getting closer to losing the fight against my tears. When Eric's rough voice declares "You were scalding your skin just now. You're not going back in there." I can't hold it in any longer. My body sags forward, caught in Eric's arms, and I start crying helplessly. I know he'll hate it, know that if I'm lucky he'll just tell me off for being weak and not punish me, but I can't keep it together any more.

Exhausted from my lack of sleep, suffering from nightmares and bad memories, and tortured by a psycho who liked cutting patterns into my skin, I cry in Eric's bathroom yet again. To my surprise, he neither mocks nor shouts at me. He doesn't react to my breakdown in any way, just continues to hold me until his T-shirt is soaked with my tears and I've cried myself out. Until Peter's touch is just a bad memory, until the only thing I feel is the towel against my skin and Eric's arms around me.

It takes me a while to calm down, nose running and eyes swollen. I don't know how to deal with this situation, don't know if I should try to free myself or stay where I am. Whether I should speak or remain silent. So my exhausted brain decides to go with the easiest option. I close my eyes and rest my head against Eric's chest.

"He won't touch you again. That much I can promise."

Eric's voice is quiet, but I can feel it rumble deep in his chest. I'm glad that for the moment he seems unwilling to change our position. I'm exhausted, physically and emotionally. It's his strength that keeps me upright and keeps me going right now.

"Does Jeanine really want me back?"

"She's made a couple of pointless requests recently. I don't give up what's mine."

"Promise?"

It's only when I feel Eric stiffen that I realise what I'm asking of him. That I'm asking him to keep me with him, to keep me safe, to protect me from Jeanine and who ever is trying to take me to her. He takes a while to answer, but when he does he sounds sincere and I swear his arms around me tighten fractionally.

"I promise."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this isn't quite as long as usual. But I wanted to get something out to you, and it was a good place to end the chapter. Hope you're still with me and willing to let me know what you think.


	13. Nothing stronger than a broken woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very big thank you to Divergentgirl 811, who made my day with her comment on the last chapter, and who inspired me to get this next one out much sooner than I originally anticipated.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains a little bit of smut. For those who want to skip it, leave out the section marked  
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> xxxxxxxxx  
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> 
> As always: enjoy :)

There is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself.  
Hannah Gadsby

 

  
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It doesn't take long for Eric to grow impatient after this admission. Letting me cry on his shoulder has probably used up his patience and tolerance for feelings today, and his voice and touch are business-like as he inspects my wounds. Most of the cuts on my abdomen are shallow, and will hopefully fade on their own, but the stab wound in my thigh needs stitching. He offers me a choice between going to the infirmary and doing it himself, and because I don't feel ready to face other people just yet I bite my lip as he puts in a single stitch to tie the wound together. It hurts, but it's nothing I can't handle. Why he keeps a full medical kit including scalpel and surgical needles in his bathroom I can only guess.

When I walk into the living room dressed in my most comfortable shirt and leggings, Eric is just pulling on his uniform jacket.

"I'm heading out again. Not sure when I'll be back yet, so there's no need to wait for me."

"Are you going to do something about Peter?"

The words have slipped out of my mouth before I've really considered if I want to know the answer. Eric's face hardens.

"That's none of your concern. Eat something, read, go to sleep, I don't really care. Just don't get started on that scratching your skin off bullshit again. I'll check on you when I get back, and I can promise you that you won't like the outcome if I see another mark on your arm. Are we clear?"

His curt words bring a sense of normality, something I desperately need right now. So I just nod. After throwing me a sceptical look he heads out of the door.

For a moment I just stand there, staring dumbly at the door, before I pull myself together. My stomach emits a loud growl, reminding me that I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. That, in fact, I haven't eaten much at all over the last few days. All of a sudden I feel ravenous.

I'm pleasantly drowsy when I finish my dinner, Eric's words about reading floating through my mind. I've already been tempted by the wide array of books in the shelves that cover the wall behind the sofa, but never dared to take one out for myself. I might as well take him at his word tonight.

A large section of the bookcase is reserved for something I'd call Dauntless literature. Volumes and volumes on leadership, strategy, military tactics, weaponry, martial arts and combat technique, with biographies of long-gone generals, platoons and warlords thrown in between. Whilst some titles look really interesting, I've had enough of violence for one day and this isn't really what I'm looking for.

But there is also a surprisingly diverse collection of fiction and non-fiction that has nothing to do with how to successfully divest yourself of your enemies, and it's here that a book catches my eye.

A guy in a spacesuit looks at me from the cover, his expression a mixture of resignation and resolve. Soon I'm deeply immersed in the story of a scientist accidentally left behind on a science mission to Mars. The story is fascinating, but implausible. The expedition the man is on is clearly run by an earlier version of Erudite, and they would never do something as illogical as trying to rescue a team member only to make people feel better. Nevertheless, the story is captivating, and it's only when I can't keep my eyes open any longer that I decide to retreat to Eric's bedroom.

I'm no step closer to figuring out how to beat my fear sims faster, or why Eric showed up in one. Plus, after today I'm almost certain that tomorrow knives will make an appearance during my next round. But somehow tonight I only feel tired, without the apprehension or fitfulness that made the last few nights so exhausting.

Pulling on one of Eric's shirts as a nightgown is perfectly normal to me now. I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  
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The other initiates seem agitated when I walk into the sim waiting room the next morning. Most of them ignore me as usual, but some people look at the bruises and cuts on my face in surprise and almost worry.

I'm sitting by myself, resigning myself to a long wait. Four has been calling us into the room in no apparent order, so it's hard to anticipate when it'll be my turn. I'm not particularly looking forward to the sim, something I think I have in common with everyone in the room. Whilst some people clearly took to the fighting stage of initiation, nobody really seems to have gotten the hang of dealing with their fears so far.

Jason drops into the chair next to me. He's been a lot more open about his attempts to befriend me recently, probably because Eric isn't around to yell at him each time he so much as looks in my direction. I try not to encourage him, but it's nice having somebody to hold a normal conversation with. To be able to pretend that I'm part of the group, even if I'm always the one slightly to the side.

"Did you hear that they pulled someone out of the Chasm this morning?"

This draws my attention. I shake my head. Eric didn't come back home last night, causing me to almost oversleep for the first time in months. As he's my primary source of information, I haven't caught up yet with the gossip in Dauntless.

"They say it's a member of one of the patrol squads. Nobody saw him jump though, so they're trying to figure out how it happened. Apparently leadership are reviewing the security tapes right now."

"Did you know him?"

"Naaah, never heard of the guy before. But people were bitching about him at breakfast this morning. Doesn't sound as if he was super popular. I think his name was Piers or Pete or something."

My blood runs cold. "Peter?"

"That's it! So you have heard about it. Did Eric say anything to you?"

I shrug, trying hard to appear unfazed. "No. Just a lucky guess."

On the inside however, I'm far from calm. Is this the same Peter that attacked me yesterday? Or did Jason get the name wrong and it's somebody unknown to me? But if it's him, how did he end up in the Chasm? There are cameras everywhere, surely somebody must have caught on by now that something was happening that involved Peter, Eric and me yesterday. Are they going to follow up on it? Does Eric have anything to do with this? Did he kill him? And if he did, how would I feel about it?

I can't let Jason know how much his piece of news affect me. Had he been from Candor I doubt I would have gotten away with it, but luckily Jason transferred from Amity and doesn't know how to pick up on little clues in a persons voice and body language. I don't think any member of my old faction would have bought my nonchalance.

"Do you know when they found him?"

"I think at some point late last night. There's going to be a memorial service for him later, Dauntless style. I don't really know what to expect, but I'm guessing it'll involve lots of booze." He flashes me a quick grin. "Sometimes I feel like living here is a constant party."

That's a feeling I definitely don't share. I've been been thrown off balance ever since I first set foot into Dauntless. Ever since I first saw Eric, in fact. Each time I think I know what to expect, each time some sense of normalcy unfurls, something happens to throw my life into turmoil again. The feeling burning deep in my chest feels suspiciously close to hurt. It must show on my face, because Jason suddenly looks mortified.

"God, sorry, that's not... I mean... I didn't mean to say..." He gestures helplessly, searching for words. "Fuck, I guess living with Eric isn't a big party." He's getting more flustered every second, looking so helpless that my anger evaporates. His acknowledgement takes the sting out of his words.

"It's fine. I know what you meant. They don't let any opportunity to drink and dance slide, do they?"

Jason gladly accepts the olive branch and launches into a detailed description of all the strange rituals and activities he's seen at Dauntless parties. He doesn't manage to distract me completely though, and I keep thinking about where Eric went to last night, until the door to the sim room opens yet again, and Four calls out my name.

  
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When I walk back to the apartment I almost feel like dancing. As Jason predicted, the hallways are filled with Dauntless slowly getting hammered. But even having to deal with a leering guy approaching me until his slightly more sober friend reminds him that, "That's Eric's slave, man. Do you have a death wish?", can't put a damper on my mood.

Maybe it was yesterday's reminder that my real life is still more dangerous than any simulation. Maybe it was the fact that I was well-rested for once. Maybe Peter's attack made me realise that my body knows how to fight, even if my mind takes a while to catch on. Whatever it was, in today's simulation I managed to fight the attacker with the shadowy face and the gleaming knife in his hand. I still died, so it was far from a pleasant experience, but I didn't wake up to the feeling of lead in my stomach and my eyes watering. According to Four, my time in getting out of the sim improved quite a lot, and I acted like a Dauntless would. I'll take this tiny victory.

My good mood holds, even as the movements of cleaning the flat put strain on the healing cuts in my skin. But ever since hearing Eric's promise I feel lighter than I have in months. My time in Erudite was so much worse than anything that happened to me in Dauntless, and removing the threat of having to go back has lifted a weight off my shoulder.

Deep down I think I know now that the sim in which Eric killed my family was not about him, but about somebody betraying me. Because he's the main person in my life, the one I'm slowly starting to trust, it's only logical for him to appear in that particular fear.

There were many small steps leading up to me trusting him. Him surreptitiously teaching me how to fight. Showing me around the faction on our nightly runs. Not protecting me from stronger opponents, rather helping me discover my own strength. Letting me go back without a word after the war games. Not punishing me for screaming at him when Kira was within earshot. And somehow managing to step in, knowing when I needed his protection.

I'm still curious to know whether the person they're commemorating today is the one who enjoyed cutting patterns into my skin not 24 hours ago. And if he is, if Eric has anything to do with him ending up in the Chasm.

My wait for answers is over when Eric finally walks through the door, looking tired but less tense than when I last saw him. He casts a scrutinising look over my bare arms, visibly searching for scratch marks.

"So you do know how to take orders. What a pleasant surprise."

I roll my eyes. As far as I'm aware, the only thing I've been doing since I came here was taking orders. He doesn't seem to mind my less than deferent reaction when he reaches out for me and pulls me close. His kiss is hungry and demanding, his hands in my hair and on my back reassuring and familiar. He tastes of alcohol, something I'm unused to and am not sure I like. Somehow, I'm reminded of Peter, although he never tried to kiss me.

I stiffen, but don't try to pull away. This is Eric holding me, not some psycho. He had many opportunities to hurt me, and never did. Eric however seems to catch on to the change in my mood, because he slows down our kisses. I have to fight the sudden tight feeling in my throat when he roughly says, "Don't worry. Nothing will happen until you want it to." I only manage a nod.

It's hard to reconcile this Eric with the one telling me again and again that the only thing that mattered was his will. We've both come a long way since we first met in Amity's stables. I fall back onto our usual evening routine, scrambling back onto safer ground.

"I just finished preparing dinner. Are you hungry?"

The look he throws me before nodding is frustration mixed with something undecipherable. Neither of us speak as we eat, and it's only when I've finished washing up that I can muster the courage to ask the questions that have been burning in me all day.

"Was it Peter they pulled from the Chasm?"

Eric, who has been working on his tablet while I'm cleaning as usual, stills before looking straight at me.

"Yes."

"Do you know how he ended up there?"

A long pause, before Eric answers. "We've been reviewing the security footage all day. Somebody cut off the cameras for almost an hour last night, but Peter was seen walking to the Chasm on his own around half one."

His tone is even, betraying nothing. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for my most important question. Eric cuts me off before I've even phrased it in my head.

"Don't ask me what you're about to ask. I've answered enough of your questions tonight. If you can't think of anything else to do, go to bed."

As I walk into the bedroom I can't decide if I'm relieved or angry at him for refusing to answer.

  
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I'm lying in bed, tossing and turning, wide awake, unable to sleep. Eric next to me has no such problems, which makes me childishly jealous. His breath evened a few minutes after he joined me in bed, and he's now sleeping peacefully on his side with his back turned to me. Him falling asleep before me is an unusual occurrence, but one that has become more frequent over the last week.

My body feels tired, but my mind won't shut up, constantly replaying Eric's face as he left the storage room, his fury at Peter, his promise to protect me from Jeanine. I wonder whether I'm developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome, or if there really is a deeper connection slowly evolving between us. Whether he's just toying with me for his own amusement. Somehow, I don't think he is.

I turn again, huffing, annoyed with myself, mentally calculating the hours of sleep left to me if I fall asleep RIGHT NOW. Suddenly I'm too hot, so I drag Eric's shirt over my head and drop it next to the bed. I can't even keep my eyes closed. They have long become used to the darkness. Moonlight soaks every surface in dark silver. My eyes trace the shape of Eric's well-defined muscles on his arms, shoulders and back. It must have taken a him a long time to train his body to perfection, to push himself further and harder than everyone else, and it has paid off.

Without thinking I reach out my hand, lightly tracing the line of his spine. The skin under my fingers is warm and soft, both feelings I'm guessing few people associate with Eric. He doesn't stir from his sleep, and I let my hand wander further, idly exploring his back, from the nape of his neck and his shoulder blades down to his waist. It's the first time I'm touching him freely, uninterruptedly, with no ulterior motive other than because he feels good under my hand.

An idea strikes me suddenly. There is something I've wanted to try for quite some time now, but never gotten the chance. I scoot closer, lightly pressing myself against his back, slowly sliding my hand down his side and towards his stomach. The sound of his breathing changes as I start tracing lazy circles underneath his navel, slowly making my way towards his half-erect penis.

I've learned a lot about his body since I came here, know what he likes, what turns him on, which areas are his most sensitive, which movements and touches elicit what response. I know exactly what I need to do to get him hard, how fast to go and how to move my hand, and I can't help but feeling oddly proud when he grows in my hand.

When a strained noise escapes his throat and he starts pushing into my hand I know that he's finally awake. I smile against his back, continuing to stroke and squeeze him in a steady rhythm. For the first time in months I'm the one holding all the power. I revel in the feeling, in the silkiness of his skin under my hand, the corralled strength in the body I'm pressed up against. I know I'm not going as fast as he would like me to go, but I won't give him what he wants unless he asks for it.

"I swear, if you stop now, I'm gonna strangle you."

Yet his voice, still rough from sleep, holds no threat. He's leaning into my touch, his hand reaching over my arm, grabbing my hip. He seems willing to let my have this, to play our game my way tonight. I'm glad that I took the initiative.

"I won't stop." I whisper against his back. "But you'll have to convince me to do more than that."

He laughs, short and breathlessly. "You want to hear me beg?"

"It would make for a nice change, I think."

He turns to glance at me over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised and desire burning in his eyes. Yet he doesn't change our position, doesn't try to take over, doesn't try to gain the upper hand.

"I've known from the start that you have an evil side to you."

His quiet rumble causes a pleasant shiver to run down my spine. I chuckle, but continue the slow rhythm I've set. He usually enjoys playing with me, so I don't see why I shouldn't draw this out when it's my turn.

"A good start, but not quite what I want to hear."

I lean forward, straining to reach his shoulder, and start leaving feather-light kisses on his skin in addition to stroking his dick even slower. As I alternate between kissing and gently nibbling his skin, his breathing comes harder and faster.

"You just have to say the word." I whisper.

I know that I can't overstretch this, that I can't expect too much from him. Handing control over to me, even in such a little thing, is hard for him and goes against every one of his instincts. So when he presses a strained "Fucking hell, wildcat. Get on with it. Please." through clenched teeth, it's all I'm waiting for. Hearing the need in his voice turns me on as well, and I squeeze my legs together to relieve some of the pressure.

I fasten my pace, holding him tighter whilst continuing to leave little bite marks on his shoulder. It doesn't take long until he groans and his hold on my hip tightens. Hot, sticky liquid spills over my hand as I continue to squeeze him, holding onto him until the last tremors of his orgasm have faded.

I pull my hand away and roll away from him, grabbing my discarded nightshirt from the floor. Eric is lying on his back now, hands crossed behind his head, watching me as I first clean my hand and then carefully start wiping off his stomach, followed by the sheets next to him. I throw the shirt to the side when I'm done, briefly deliberating with myself whether I can get away with what I'm about to do. I settle down next to him again, resting my head on his shoulder and putting my arm over his chest. He doesn't object, instead sneaking his right arm around my shoulder to pull me closer.

We lie together in silence for a while. I feel more relaxed now, my mind growing as tired as my body, and I'm wondering whether Eric is already back asleep. But there is no trace of sleep in his voice when he asks, "And what exactly brought this on?"

"I just wanted to." This is the truth. I've wanted to make him fall apart under my hands for a while now. But the Candor in me can't help but add, "And I couldn't sleep."

"You couldn't sleep." He dead-pans, seemingly trying to decide whether to be mad at me for waking him up or not. "Guess I'll have to make sure you're thoroughly exhausted if I want to catch any sleep from now on."

"Probably." I yawn, suddenly unable to keep my eyes open. I feel more than hear Eric's chuckle under my cheek as I drift off to sleep.

  
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The next day is a Sunday. There are no fear simulations for the initiates today, so Eric decides to take me to his office while he catches up on some paperwork. He says it's to keep an eye on me, but I'm convinced it's so there is somebody he can pick a fight with when he gets bored.

I've rarely seen the corridors this empty. The memorial service for Peter lasted way into the night, and the entire faction seems to suffer from a collective hangover. Hardly anyone is about, and the few people we see look bleary eyed and tired.

For the first hour I'm content to just sit and watch Eric work. I entertain myself by trying to guess from tiny clues on his face whether he agrees with or disapproves of what he reads. I give myself a point for each time I can anticipate his reaction correctly, be it an annoyed roll of his eyes, a malicious smirk or a grudging grunt of approval. My Candor education isn't going to waste after all.

When he moves on to a different set of paperwork, his face gets more serious and his eyes grow cold. He doesn't give away anything anymore. Maybe Jack Kang would still be able to read something out of his body language, but I'm way out of my depth. I try to think of something else to pass the time, but there is nothing in here to keep me occupied. Like his flat, his office is meticulously clean with no decorations of any kind. I look around me, but all I see are white walls, dark cabinets, and Eric sitting behind his desk, typing away at his computer. This is going to be a long day if he's planning on staying here until dinner time.

"If you can't sit still for a fucking minute I'll tie you to the chair."

I look up to see Eric's eyes on me, annoyance shining in them.

"I'm sorry. But isn't there anything I can do? I'm bored." I sound like a petulant child, and we both know it. He raises his eyebrow at me.

"Oh, excuse me, am I not making you work hard enough? I'll make sure to correct that once we're..." Something catches his attention on his screen and his voice trails off. Suddenly he's tense. Looking back at me he beckons me over, his movements sharp and his voice cold.

"Come over here right now."

I slowly get out of my chair, not really understanding what brought this change in behaviour. Surely with everything that happened between us recently, my complaint can't have brought this on? Again, I'm not reacting quick enough to his orders, and the snarl in his voice is one I haven't heard in months.

"Get your ass moving and come here. I'm not going to tell you again."

Confused I walk around the desk, stopping a few feet away from his chair. He reaches out for me and pulls me towards him, forcing me to my knees between his legs. He either doesn't hear or doesn't care about the sound of protest I make as my knees hit the floor unexpectedly. I don't understand what's going on. Where is this suddenly coming from?

It's only when I see him opening his belt and unbuttoning his trousers, whilst pulling at my head with his other hand that I'm starting to struggle in earnest. I've never defied him, but I don't want to do this. Not now. Not like this. He stills for a second and bends forwards, hissing, "Now is really not the time for this shit, wildcat." at me, before straightening again.

I'm just about to tell him exactly what I think of this, when the door opens and the sound of high heels walking into the room before stopping abruptly rings to my ears.

"Ever heard of knocking, Jeanine?" I'm close enough that I can feel the tension radiating off him, but none of it is apparent in Eric's voice. He sounds cold, slightly out of breath, and it suddenly dawns on me why he forced me into this position in front of him. His hand still on my head tightens, urging me silently to play along.

"Eric." If the idea of walking in on someone receiving a blowjob unsettles her, Jeanine is good at hiding it. "I wasn't aware you had company. Shall I come back later?"

"No need. We can always pick up where we left this off. Back into your corner, slave."

I take a cue from his dismissive tone and crawl into the corner next to his desk without getting up, keeping my head down and making sure not to look anywhere but the floor in front of my eyes. This is how Jeanine will expect to see me, after all. Beaten down. Battered. Defeated.

"So, Jeanine." Eric has fixed his trousers up again and is now comfortably leaning back in his chair. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I had a meeting with Max to discuss the next steps to completely divest ourselves of our little Divergent problem and I thought I'd stop by. You've been rather elusive recently."

Though her tone is light, the warning in her voice is unmistakable. She's not happy with him and came to let him know.

"Yeah, I've been busy overseeing initiation. It takes a lot of time turning these imbeciles into real Dauntless soldiers, especially the transfers."

"Is that why you decided to make your job even harder by letting HER participate?" Jeanine sounds like a snake about to strike. I will myself not to react to her, to not give away that Eric hasn't destroyed me as he should have.

"Are you really that bored, Jeanine, that you keep track of how I entertain myself? Would you maybe like me to include it in our weekly updates? Or install a video feed directly from my bedroom? Because I can tell you, it's a great show."

I don't need to be able to see him to know that he looks extremely pleased with himself right now. To her credit, Jeanine isn't faced by his suggestive tone.

"There is no need for vulgarism, Eric. I'm simply questioning the wisdom of teaching your slave how to fight. Whatever you do with her is no concern of mine."

"That's absolutely right." Gone are all traces of amusement. Eric is suddenly serious, his tone worthy of a Dauntless leader, his voice cutting like steel. "What I do with what's mine is none of your business. So please tell your research team to stop sending me those pointless requests to borrow her for a few more weeks. They're getting rather annoying, and I have no intention to grant their request any time soon."

"I will let them know." The atmosphere in the room has turned cold enough that I half expect icicles to form at the ceiling. "But I expect you to remember who gave you this gift in the first place. Your commitment seems rather lacking recently, and I advise you to get your priorities straight once initiation is over."

"Don't worry. I can assure you that my priorities haven't changed since you handed her over to me."

"Good. Make sure it stays that way." Jeanine turns to leave. She's just at the door when she stops and turns around. "Oh, by the way. I heard you lost one of your faction members yesterday. Please accept my sincere condolences. If there is anything we can do to help, we will."

"Thanks. As always, Erudite's support is much appreciated."

Neither of them speak, silence weighing heavily on the room, before Jeanine abruptly throws open the door and disappears down the hallway.

Eric doesn't move until the echo of her heels has faded in the distance. Then he's already halfway across the room before he remembers me still kneeling in the corner. When he turns to look at me the taunt line of his jaw tells me as much as the dark grey of his eyes that this meeting with Jeanine rattled him more than he wants to let on.

"Come on. We're going to the training room. I need to punch something."

He stops me as I walk up to him, making me look straight into his eyes with his hand under my chin. "You won't breathe a word of this to anyone. Are we clear?"

I want to tell him that I'm not stupid. That maybe I don't understand what exactly is going on between Jeanine and him, but that I'm smart enough to stay away from it as far as I possibly can. But something tells me that he wouldn't appreciate my Candor right now. That this isn't about me, but about him. That maybe he needs my assurance that I won't betray him as much as I need his. So I hold his gaze as I reply.

"I promise."


	14. A phoenix first must burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a little longer to finish this update, which annoys me to no end. I blame it on the fact that I'm moving to a new city soon, and the entire process of organising everything is taking up more time than I'd like. 
> 
> Anyway, I still hope you enjoy the new chapter in Linna's and Eric's story!
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains smut - if you'd like to skip it, leave out the section marked with
> 
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In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn.   
Octavia E. Butler

  
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Over the next few weeks neither I nor Eric try to put the changes between us into words. To the the outside world everything is the same. He is still the scary Dauntless leader intent on torturing his slave in every small way he can. There is none of the patience and warmth that only I get to see when we're home and nobody can watch or hear us. At home it's a different matter.

While I still do most of the tidying and cooking, it's more out of boredom, to keep my hands occupied while my mind is solving the puzzle of how to best approach and fight my fears. I'm getting better at controlling them, at fighting my way through the simulations. The more control I gain the easier it is to spot the tiny clues that make them different from reality. My panic subsides once I realise I'm in a sim and I can fight my way out more easily, my Divergence actually working for me for once.

There is something strange about the most recent simulations as well, something that didn't happen over the first few days of this stage. Eric is making an appearance in a lot more of my fears, even the ones that held faceless horrors before. He's the one throwing me off a cliff into the abyss now. He's the one hunting me through the maze. He's the one burying me underneath a blanket of spiders.

Weirdly, his presence doesn't intensify the fear, rather it helps me realise much more quickly that I'm stuck in a sim, that I need to fight. I don't understand why he keeps appearing when I know that I'm not afraid of him. It's another puzzle I can't quite solve yet, but one that keeps me thinking.

Ever since Peter's attack Eric has been reluctant to touch me though, and it takes a lot of more or less patient persuasion from my side to get him to to do more than just kiss me goodnight before he falls asleep. Gone is the man who forced me into his bed. He doesn't go out of his way to avoid me, but he is also not making any of his usual blunt advances. And whilst I appreciate his restraint, whilst I can see it's not for lack of desire on his part but out of concern, it drives me crazy.

Which is why I decide to do something about it now. Eric is sitting on the couch, working as usual while I tidy up the kitchen, when an idea strikes me. He looks up from his tablet as I approach him, eyebrow raised questioningly. I take it as a good sign that he doesn't resist when I take the tablet from his hands and place it on the table behind me. Before my boldness evaporates completely I climb onto his lap.

He reacts without thinking, placing his arms around me and lightly grabbing my hips. A memory of the first time I was in this position flashes through me. I shake it off. This is nothing like that first day. I'm not being pressured to do anything. I'm simply doing this because I want to.

"Hi." I say. Now that I'm where I want to be my brain apparently decides to take a break.

"Hi." He's still giving me a questioning look, but amusement starts dancing in his eyes.

For a while I simply look at him, lost in the myriad of emotions that play in his grey eyes too quickly for me to catch on. His eyes are not as empty and cold as I first though, but he's good at hiding what's going on inside him. It's a rare occurrence for him to let his guard down. I slowly reach out and start tracing the lines of his face. He watches me intently but makes no attempt to prevent my exploration. My fingers linger over the microdermals in his eyebrow, and I ask. "Did those hurt?"

He lets out a short, amused laugh. "No."

I let my fingers wander, following the sharp angles of his cheekbone, enjoying the feeling of stubble on his jaw. He raises his chin a bit when I reach the dark blocks of the tattoo on his neck, and I lean closer to inspect them. Those bold tattoos right next to his trachea must have hurt like hell. But when I look up at him to ask the question, he simply smiles and shakes his head.

"Not really. I was too high on becoming the faction's youngest leader, I didn't feel much when they put them on me. Besides, leadership tattoos are meant to hurt, so it didn't come unexpected."

Hu. I knew that he has been a leader for a while now, but not that he was the youngest leader Dauntless has ever had. This explains a lot, from his sheer endless arrogance to his merciless reaction to disobedience. It can't have been easy, leading a faction of warriors without having proven yourself. It can't have gone over without challenges, both open and clandestine. Another piece added to the puzzle that Eric represents to me.

He sharply lets out a breath when I place a kiss on his neck. My tongue flickers lightly over his skin, tracing the angular borders of his tattoo. I kiss my way up his neck slowly, taking my time. One of my hands finds it's way to the nape of his neck, the other is still pressed against his chest. I can feel some tension leaving his body, and mark this as a win.

When my lips finally find his I almost sigh at the exhilarating and yet familiar feeling of it. He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, and for a while I'm perfectly satisfied exchanging slow, long kisses with him, drawing out the excitement, adding fuel to the fire slowly.

I'm grabbing hold of his shirt, refusing to let him get away. He leaves little bite marks and kisses down my neck and I want to purr in pure bliss when he sucks on one of my favourite spots underneath my ear. A pleasant tingle starts between my legs, and my blood is turning hotter every minute.

His hands are now both on my body, one of them behind my back anchoring me against him, the other slowly dragging up and down my side, leaving hot sparks in its trail. I want to push into his hand, but it never reaches the places where I so desperately want it. It doesn't even find its way under my shirt. His hand catches mine when I try to lift his shirt, and places it back on his shoulders. When after a while he slows down our kissing and tries to draw back, I've had enough. I can only drop so many hints before bluntness is my only option.

"I won't break, you know."

He stills, confusion written on his face as he looks at me.

"What do you mean?"

"I won't break if you keep kissing me. Or touch me. Or even fuck me. I would actually quite like that."

He doesn't respond, but suddenly looks pensive.

"If this is about Peter, then you don't have to worry. I know you're not him. I know he was sick, definitely crazy, and that he tried to break me. But he didn't. And he won't. So you don't have to treat me like a ticking bomb or a fragile piece of glass. I mean, I'm happy to take things slow, but you don't have to stop touching me altogether."

I trail off, trying to think of yet another way to convey my feelings. There's a twitch around his mouth that makes me think he's fighting hard to suppress a smile.

"Are you done?"

I blink at him, not really sure if I've made my point clear or if there's more I want to say. I shrug.

"I guess."

"Then I suggest you stop blabbering and we get to it."

He lifts me up and is already two steps towards the bedroom before my mind catches on and I manage to wrap my arms around his shoulders to hold on to him.

  
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He drops me onto the bed unceremoniously. The look he sends heats my blood, and I'm glad that I finally snapped and told him what I wanted. To be on the safe side though I pull my shirt over my head and wriggle out of my sports bra. Judging by the look on his face this was a good move, because his gaze seems even more focussed than before.

Instead of joining me on the bed or starting to undress himself he grabs my leg and pulls me towards the edge of the bed. I quickly catch on when he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my trousers and starts pulling, but he doesn't come to join me once both my leggings and underwear are off.

It finally dawns on me what he's planning when he drops to his knees in front of the bed and pulls me closer. I lean back slowly, my eyes never leaving his as he spreads my legs. This is a huge step for me. I've only ever been able to enjoy this when I completely trusted the man I was with. I never let Magnus go down on me, never felt comfortable enough to make myself this vulnerable in front of him. But somehow with Eric, even though I can't quite shake some apprehension, this feels exactly right.

"If you need me to stop, just say it."

His calloused hands are rough against the soft skin of my inner thighs, but their movement is soothing, grounding, and suddenly I don't have a problem anymore with simply lying back and relaxing into his touch.

His cool breath on my heated bundle of nerves makes me shudder. He doesn't touch me there, not quite yet. He's taking his time, planting soft kisses on the inside of my thighs, running his hands slowly up and down the curve of my body. When his mouth is finally on me, asking him to stop is the last thing on my mind.

I lose all feeling for time. Everything, my situation, my surroundings, my anxieties, all cease to exist. The only thing that matters is Eric's tongue on my clit and his arms holding my thighs. I can't hold back little moans and groans, and the look he sends up my body only adds to my excitement. He shows an uncanny patience, adding fuel to the fire burning inside me slowly. He's taking his time, and when I finally fall apart under his hands and mouth I need a few minutes for my breathing to slow and my racing heartbeat to calm down.

"I'm not going to add to your already massive ego and tell you how I liked it." I mumble, as he drops down next to me, a smug look on his handsome face.

"Aww, wildcat, you wound me. My ego's hardly massive. Another part of me though..." He sends me a suggestive wink. I can't help but laugh, still a little breathless, and he bends forward to kiss me again. The taste of myself lingering on his lips is strange, but not unpleasant. Eric's kisses are more intent now, his need more apparent in the way he presses himself against me, his hands roaming over my body.

This time he doesn't withdraw when I try to lift his shirt over his head. I pout when he leaves me to get rid of the rest of his clothing, but soon enough he's back on top of me. The weight of his body isn't suffocating, instead it gives me a feeling of safety, as if nothing and nobody could hurt me. I let out a surprised squeal when Eric suddenly holds me tight and flips us over. It's an unusual position for us, with him on his back and me on top.

I hesitate, unsure of what to do. But the look in his eyes as he slowly reaches out for me quickly restores my confidence. It's not only desire I see there, but an appreciation and acceptance I didn't know I needed until now. He makes me feel beautiful, wanted, and it's not a feeling I'm used to.

"Do you want me to ride you?" My voice sounds hoarse even to my own ears. He nods, and as I bend down my hair falls around us like a messy curtain. I reach between us and he all but pushes into my hand when I close it around his dick. The evidence of his arousal makes the fire in me burn hotter again.

We both let out simultaneous moans when I rise to my knees and sink down on him, taking in his entire length slowly. For a second I still, enjoying the sensation of feeling stretched, of him pulsating inside me.

I raise my eyebrow at him when he starts rocking his hips too soon for my liking. "Stop moving. Let me enjoy this feeling, please."

"Oh, excuse me, your highness. Far be it from me to interfere with your plans." The cockiness of his statement is ruined a little by the breathless way in which he says it. His expression is a mixture of excitement and frustration. The way he clenches his jaw tells me that waiting isn't really what he wants right now.

"I guess I'll forgive you this time." I can't stop the smile spreading over my face when I slowly start moving.

It takes us a few tries to find a rhythm that works for both of us, but soon we're both breathing heavily, our bodies moving against each other, his hands where I most want them. I can't prevent myself from digging my nails into his skin when an orgasm builds for the second time tonight. I lean back to change our angle and increase my speed, intent on making him come as well. His hips are rocking against mine more intently now, and he follows me soon after another wave of liquid fire washes through me.

I slowly unclamp my fingers, noticing the tiny half-moon imprints on his thighs with an ounce of guilt. Neither of us move for a while, me still sitting on top of him. We're staring at each other and yet are both lost in our own worlds. Tonight feels like another step forward, but I still can't see the road we're travelling on.

"Feeling better now?" He's obviously recovered if the smugness in his voice is any indication.

"I am." With as much dignity as I can muster I climb off him.

"Glad I could be of assistance."

"I'll let you know when it's needed again."

"I hope so, wildcat, I sure hope so."

Eric's breathing soon takes on the heaviness and evenness of sleep when I've cleaned up and settled down next to him again. His arm slung possessively over my waist, it occurs to me that he didn't only fulfil my wishes tonight, didn't only give me what I wanted. He also did his best to allow me maximum control over what we were doing. Lack of control has been shining through my fears recently, and Peter's attack hasn't improved that. Eric knows me better than I give him credit for, and I can't decide whether that thought excites or scares me.

  
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Today's the day. Testing day is finally here. Today is the day that will decide my future. The day that will determine whether I'm good enough, strong enough to be Dauntless. Even though I'll never be a member.

Somehow Peter's attack on me marked a turning point in me dealing with the simulations. They don't throw me as much as they did in the beginning, I'm no longer paralysed by fear when my family casts me out, random people come after me with knives, Erudite approach me with a syringe or Eric turns to shoot me.

Eric was right when he said it would get easier once I had found my way to deal with things. He was also right when he predicted that action would be my way out. I've trained myself to approach each fear like a Dauntless would, but I use my Candor skills to analyse them before I act. I look for clues that will tell me what my opponents might do, and I fight them with the techniques I've learned in the training room. My times have improved steadily, and so has my mood and confidence.

Sometimes I almost forget what I am. That in everyone's eyes I'm still nothing but a slave.

Eric, already dressed in his official Dauntless leader uniform, just finishes his coffee when I walk into the kitchen. He gives me an appraising look, taking note of everything from the hair tie fighting to keep the mess of curls on my head in a high pony tail, to the combat boots, tight-fitting black jeans and long sleeved shirt with the orange stripes sewn to them.

For once there is no sarcasm in his voice when he asks, "Ready?"

I can only nod. Breakfast isn't an option for me today, nerves making my stomach cramp too much to keep anything down. It'll all be over soon, one way or another. But I just want to get all of this behind me and be done with it.

"Then let's go."

Our way through the compound is familiar, and yet a buzz is running through the faction. Today is an important day, a day that will bring them new members, a reason to party, and the excitement is palpable. When we run into yet another group of people already well on their way to getting hammered, I stifle a laugh at Eric's annoyed "I should send them all to the fence for a year if they can't even keep it together for two fucking hours." But the relief it brings is too brief, and soon I'm nervously biting the inside of my cheek again.

When we reach the other initiates in front of the fear landscape room I feel ready to throw up. By the looks of it I'm not alone in this, though everybody is hiding their feelings as good as they can. Today is not the day to show weakness, neither to your fellow initiates nor to your faction. Jason throws me a quick smile but stays where he is. I scan the group for Kira, opting to stand as far away from her as possible. Apart from the day of my first fight there was never any open hostility between us, but I simply don't trust her.

Eric has walked off to join the other Dauntless leaders without a glance back. Though I know that he has a role to play, that probably his nonchalance is feigned, it stings a little.

"For fucks sake, Max, why can't you get it in your head? We're hurting ourselves if we only take the fifteen best initiates. Only because someone takes longer to fight through their fears doesn't make them less Dauntless. We need all kinds of people, not just the big and strong ones if we want to succeed."

I don't know the woman talking at Max in a hushed, yet angry voice, but she must rank highly to get away with challenging him. From where I stand I can't get a good look of her face. He hair is straight and black, streaked with grey, and a tattoo shaped like a hawk with a red eye is visible above her shirt.

"I've told you a hundred fucking times, Tori, this is how we run the faction now. We don't need wimps who can't keep up. If you don't like it you can either shut up about it or go and join those weaklings in the Factionless sector."

I've only heard Max speak once, but his deep voice is distinct, and its callousness sends shivers down my spine. Tori however bristles at his words.

"Is that you speaking, or your Erudite friends? I never thought I'd see the day when we let THEM run our faction." There's venom in her voice now. "It's enough with Jeanine spewing her bullshit about how Divergents are out to destroy us, now she's trying to tell us whom we're allowed to let into our home as well?"

It dawns on me that this is a discussion I definitely should not be caught listening to. I try to draw back a little, appear unobtrusive, sink into the wall behind me, if that were possible. I'm grateful for all the black I'm wearing and that Eric dislikes the Divergent orange as much as I do.

"Enough! I'm not having this discussion with you yet again. Either deal with the way things are now or I'll make sure you'll lose far more than your leadership position."

As Max stalks off, Tori's barely suppressed anger is visible from the tension in her shoulders. When she suddenly turns around I quickly turn my head and lower my eyes, glad I'm still facing the other initiates, doing my best to appear focussed on the doors to the fear landscape rooms that have opened suddenly.

Nothing has prepared me for the pure shot of hatred flashing through me at the sight of Jeanine, making her way through the doors unhurriedly, chatting to one of her aides. I haven't forgotten my promise to kill her, and though today is not the day, my resolve hasn't weakened. All blood drains from my face when I realise that the aide she's talking to is none other than Magnus. I didn't count on ever seeing him again. Jeanine throws a searching glance over the group of initiates, and a smug smile graces her lips when her eyes find mine.

It takes all my willpower to avert my eyes and play the beaten woman once again. Rage threatens to consume me when I realise what she's trying to do. That she brought him just to mess with me, trying to throw me off. Little does she know that the sight of him doesn't do much to me anymore, at least not more than the sight of any person dressed in Erudite blue. That she can't use him to hurt me more than she already has.

It's this realisation that gives me the necessary kick to get myself together. The simulations are going to be hard enough without me making life harder for myself. I need to calm down.

When Four calls out "We're getting started. Eric's slave, into the room." I'm ready.

  
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When it's all over I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off me. I'm through. I finished Dauntless initiation. Whether I passed or failed, I gave it everything I had. I get out of the chair, slowly walking out of the room, trying to glean from the faces around me whether I've done well enough to make it. Looking at Jeanine would raise too many emotions, so I purposefully avoid looking in her direction. Four's face just holds its usual supportive expression, whilst Max is watching me with suspicion in his eyes. Eric's face doesn't betray anything, but the almost imperceptible nod he sends me gives me hope. None of the other leaders are close enough for me to really look at their expression without attracting too much attention.

I don't hang around, don't wait with the other initiates until the results are pronounced this time. Though I don't think Eric would stick to his threat of killing me if I failed, I'd rather not have other people around when my final results are revealed.

But when I arrive at home I realise that maybe I shouldn't have hurried back. It'll be quite a while until they're through with all the remaining initiates, until everyone has had a chance to prove they belong here. There's nothing to do for me here. It will probably be hours until Eric is finished with his duties to tell me how I did. And I just can't bear the idea of sitting around and waiting for my fate to be decided for me right now.

The training room should be empty though. I'm sure nobody would notice me hanging out there, not with the entire faction focussing on what's going on in the fear landscape room today.

I've almost forgotten what it feels like to be able to decide all your actions for yourself. It's been ages since I last went somewhere because I wanted to go there, instead of being told, bullied or threatened. My tour through Dauntless doesn't take me long, and I find it easy to avoid the few people I see.

I cautiously open the door to the training room, but quickly realise it's empty. I didn't come her with a plan of what to do, only that being able to do something seemed preferable to sitting around at home waiting for the inevitable. My legs carry me towards the punching bags, and before I know it I'm fully immersed in completing one of the advanced training routines Eric showed me during our nightly runs. I move on to weights after finishing with the punching bag, completing my routine with a run around the room.

I don't know how much time has passed when I move on to knives. The sound they make as they bury themselves in the target is deeply satisfying, and I'm soon engrossed in the simple process of throwing and collecting my weapons. It feels good to see the progress I've made, to see what I'm capable of if I just try hard enough.

I almost jump out of my skin when suddenly a hand closes around my wrist, effectively interrupting my next throw and forcing me to turn around. Eric. I didn't even hear him come into the room. His face doesn't give anything away. We stand there for what feels like an eternity, staring at each other, my wrist still trapped in his hand, neither of us speaking a word.

When he slowly brings my arm down, a brief smile flickers over his face before the impassive mask settles again. He nods towards the door.

"When you're quite done fucking around maybe you'll be able to bring yourself to remember that you have actual work to do?"

I search his face for answers to the question burning on my tongue. I can't ask him though, not out here where there are people around and cameras everywhere. So I nod and quickly tidy the throwing knives away. We don't speak as we make our way back to the apartment, Eric striding ahead per usual, me traipsing behind. It takes all my willpower to keep quiet until the moment the door closes behind me.

"So?"

Eric turns around, an expression of perfect innocence on his face. "What do you mean, so?"

There are times when I enjoy playing his little games. When his teasing or drawing things out are exactly what I want and need. But not right now. Not in something as important as this.

"Stop trying to fuck with me, Eric. Did I pass or not?"

He manages to maintain the face of fake innocence for a few more seconds before he bursts into amused laughter. I, on the other hand, am growing more agitated by the second. Though I think I already know the answer to my question, he hasn't actually said anything yet. Why can't he stop being a pain for once and just come out with it? It's hard to keep myself from shrieking at him.

"Can you just answer the damn question, please? I really don't see what's so fucking funny."

He reigns himself in, though the gleam in his eyes still betrays his mirth. It's only when he catches a proper look of my face that he turns serious. My anxiety is slowly turning to downright fear, and I think it must show.

"Easy, wildcat. It's all good. Of course you passed. If we'd ranked you with the other initiates, you'd have come third this year."

Whatever he says next is drowned out by the rushing sound in my ears. I made it. I truly made it. I went throught Dauntless initiation and I passed. My sight blurs, the room around me starting to sway. I take a step forward to catch myself before I fall, and suddenly find myself in the familiar comfort of Eric's arms. His amusement is still evident from his voice, the wink he sends me good-natured mockery.

"You didn't really think you'd fail, did you? Why start doubting yourself on the finish line?"

"I don't know." I mumble against his shirt. "Maybe because you couldn't give a straight answer if your life depended on it, and nothing in this faction ever makes sense." I lean back a little so I can look at him. "How was I supposed to know that I did well? Nobody here ever talks to me, most of them think I'm a freak, and the rest of them look down on my for being your slave."

Eric's face has taken on a serious expression, but his hold around me doesn't relax.

"You confuse them because you're not what they were told a Divergent would be. You came here, supposedly beaten down, you went through the exact same process they all did, and you came out on top. You took everything we threw at you in stride, and you fought your way through. That's something they can understand, but it's not what they associate with Divergents. It made them think. They're not really used to that."

He pauses, seemingly unsure or unwilling to add the next bit. "And they don't look down on you because you're a slave. They pity you because you're my slave." The cocky smile he sends me doesn't reach his eyes.

This makes me indescribably angry. Eric is no saint. By normal standards he's not even a nice person. He made me to do things I didn't want. He's impatient, arrogant and unyielding. He can be cruel and malicious if he doesn't get his way. But he has changed a lot from the cold man that forced me into his bed that very first day in Dauntless.

Now I know that beneath the surface of the perfect soldier, the Dauntless general, he can be kind and considerate if he wants to be. He's almost terrifyingly intelligent. He's quick-witted and snarky, fun to argue with, and downright protective if the situation calls for it. He pushed me, making sure I was well prepared for every adversity I might face, surreptitiously reminding me of strengths I already had. He trusted me to fight my own battles, and only stepped in when I truly needed him. Watching over me, but not smothering me with protectiveness.

It's one of the things I like about him, I realise. The fact that he knows my strength and doesn't seem to mind it. That he seems to cherish it in fact. He never tried to sugar-coat the truth, never tried to shield me from it, never pretended the balance of power to be any different than it was. Yet he also never truly tried to break my spirit. Instead I get the feeling that it's the moments when I'm feisty, feeling alive and ready to argue that he apparently enjoys the most.

"I don't need anyone's pity." I sulk. "If you behave like an ass I'm perfectly capable of telling you off. No reason for them to feel sorry for me."

The smile brightening up his face reaches his eyes this time.

"It's a good thing I rarely behave like an ass, then."

I snort, unable to keep a straight face. "Keep telling yourself that." But there's one question still burning on my mind, and I'd rather get it out. "So what happens now?

"Now?" Eric's face turns serious. "Now I have to go and show my face at the party. Don't wait for me, it'll take a while. And then tomorrow, we'll talk."

With this ominous statement he slowly disentangles himself from me.

"Talk about what?"

He ignores my question completely, instead straightening his jacket and heading towards the door. By the time it closes behind him he's in full Dauntless leader mode again, and I'm more confused than ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the conclusion of our story, though there are still a few more chapters coming. Any theories yet? As always, please let me know what you think :)


	15. Removing the mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! And the plot thickens...
> 
> As a belated Christmas present (especially to Divergentgirl811) I've also uploaded a one-shot: Eric's POV of Chapters 12 & 13 named "Monsters are real" :) Make sure to check it out and let me know what you think.

We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.  
André Berthiaume

  
\---------

  
I wake with a start when I hear a loud crash from the living room. The other side of the bed is still as cold and empty as when I went to sleep earlier this evening. Eric hasn't come back yet.

I don't know what to expect when I traipse into the living room, sleep still clouding my mind. But it's definitely not the sight in front of me. Eric, his temple bleeding, sitting in the shattered remains of his coffee table, trying to get up and failing miserably. I can only stop and stare.

"What the hell happened to you?"

The first sign that something is seriously off is that he doesn't react to my presence immediately. Instead Eric blinks a few times before he turns his head in my direction. I can tell that he has trouble focussing his eyes, that he's far off his usual controlled, super alert state. It's only when I'm crouching right in front of him that something akin to recognition flashes over his face.

"Wildcat."

There's alcohol on his breath, but not enough to warrant his current state. I wait, curious for an explanation, but this one word seems to have cost him all his remaining energy. When he slumps forward I just about manage to catch him and prevent yet another crash into the shards and splinters around us. It's all I can do to keep him upright. There's no way for me to lift him back onto the sofa, let alone get him into bed without his cooperation. I might have gained some muscles, but not enough to carry someone almost twice my weight and size.

For a while we just sit there, him slouched against me with his head resting on my shoulders, me crouching awkwardly on the floor. It's a weird feeling, being the one to hold him for once, but not an unpleasant one. The idea of sleeping amongst this mess of broken glass and wood isn't very appealing though, and I'm starting to get cold, too.

"Eric." I give his shoulders an experimental shake. His only response is a low grunt.

"Eric, you have to get up. We can't keep sitting here for the rest of the night."

"...ve me."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Just leave me here, it's fine." Of course now's the moment he discovers his chivalrous side. Or maybe it's blind stupidity, the two are hard to tell apart sometimes.

"It's not fine. You're completely out of it, and you'll probably cut your throat on some of these shards around us if I just leave you here." An idea strikes me, and with a grin I add. "Don't be such a Stiff. Besides, if you have to bleed out in the living room I'd prefer it if I was the one responsible for it."

He slowly lifts his head and manages a lopsided grin of his own. "Depriving you of all the fun, eh?"

"Exactly. Not fair. Come on, let's get you up."

It's hard work, but with much swearing on my part and silent curses on his we manage to get him to stand. He's still leaning on me heavily and it takes us ages to manage the few steps into the bedroom. His movements are sluggish, unsure, lacking all of their usual confidence and grace. Whatever it was that got him into this state, it can't have been only alcohol.

I'm completely out of breath when we finally make it to the bed, and Eric drops onto it like a stone. He's not much better off himself, the short distance apparently having cost him whatever strength he had left. I'm not sure if he closes his eyes out of sheer exhaustion, or if he's asleep already. His skin is unnaturally pale, but at least his temple stopped bleeding.

Eric seems to relax a bit when I pull off his boots and uniform jacket, and wrestle the covers out from under him to pull them up. Yet he hardly reacts when I wipe the dried blood off his face with a damp towel. I deliberate with myself if there's anything else I can do, but besides putting a glass of water next to him I can't think of anything. There's some medicine in the bathroom, but I have absolutely no clue what it's for or against. If Eric isn't better in the morning I'll go to see if I can find the nurse who treated me weeks ago. Her and Eric seemed to get along somehow.

For now there's not much I can do besides wait. I turn off most of the lights and settle down next to him, too wound up to sleep for now. I'm almost in a state of trance, watching the thankfully steady rise and fall of his chest, when he speaks.

"Thanks Lianna."

He says it quietly and a little slurred, and for a second I'm not sure I heard him correctly.

"What did you say?"

"I said thank you." A little more forceful this time.

"No, not that. The other thing."

He wrinkles his brow in obvious confusion, but still doesn't open his eyes.

"You said my real name." Warmth seeps through me. "You've never called me by my name before."

"I call you by your name in my head all the time." His voice get quieter with every word, and when he drifts off it's obvious he's dead to the world for now. I want to shake him awake, want to hear my name, my real name on his lips again, but I know it's useless. Lying on my side watching him, I can at least make sure he doesn't stop breathing.

  
\---------

  
The next morning I wake to the sound of splashing and whole hearted swearing from the bathroom.

"I will kill each and every one of them. I'll destroy their precious labs, burn their libraries and break every single piece of glass I can find in that fucking fish tank of a faction." That's all I can make out before the sound of the shower drowns out more Eric's curses.

I breathe a sigh of relief. If he's up and cursing then he can't be as bad as he seemed yesterday. I briefly consider going to check on him, but my pillow is too soft, the blankets too comfortable for me to face the day just yet. If there's anything he wants me to do I'm pretty sure he'll make himself heard.

Even the sight of Eric in nothing but a towel can't distract me from the dark circles shining under his eyes when he comes back into the bedroom, still mumbling curses under his breath. The gash on his forehead is swollen and surrounded by colourful bruising, but at least it's not bleeding anymore.

"Rough night?" I ask, as he drops his towel and starts rummaging in the drawer for something to wear. Normally I'd take a moment to enjoy the brilliant view of his bare backside, but I'm genuinely wondering what the hell happened to him yesterday. I know he likes to have a drink from time to time, but I have a hard time believing yesterday's state was brought on by alcohol alone.

Eric doesn't answer me. He takes his time getting dressed, the swearing slowly subsiding, and I bite my tongue to let him get to it in his own time. I can wait. Now that the death threat of failing initiation is no longer hanging over me I breathe more freely. Funny how sometimes you don't realise how dark the cloud over your head really was until it's gone.

Eric turns, but for once doesn't comment on me still lounging in bed. "We need to talk. Come to the living room when you're ready." He leaves the door ajar as he walks into the kitchen.

Unease creeps up my spine at his cryptic words. Much as I would like to stay in bed for a little while longer, something is definitely off. Whatever it is, I sincerely hope Eric isn't going back on his word or has concocted more sinister challenges for me to face.

Eric is sipping on a cup of coffee when I join him in the living room. A second steaming mug is sitting on the counter and I can't help but smile at this unknown level of thoughtfulness. It's a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. He tidied some of the mess from last night. At least the remains of the coffee table are gone, and there are no glass splinters lying around anymore.

I flop down next to him on the couch, enjoying the earthy, dark chocolaty aroma of the strong coffee he made. For a moment neither of us speak.

  
\---------

  
"So what exactly happened to you last night?" My curiosity is getting the better of me. Silence is something enjoyable between Eric an me, with neither of us feeling the need to speak sometimes. But I've waited long enough. I want to know what's going on. His expression darkens.

"I'm not really sure. I was out for some drinks with Scott and Marc, showing my face at the party."

"And scaring a few people while you were at it?"

A smug grin. "Something like that, yeah. Anyway, somebody must have slipped something into my drink at some point, because I really don't remember much from around midnight onwards." He glares at the spot where his coffee table stood. "No idea what happened or how I made it home. I have some vague recollection of you threatening to slit my throat if I didn't get up, but of course you would never do something that evil, now would you?"

"I may or may not have made some threats I may or may not have been prepared to follow through." I give him my best fake innocence expression, and his eyes light up in amusement.

"That's what I thought."

"Do you remember anything else?" I can't prevent a hopeful tone from sneaking into my voice. Chances are slim, especially if there really was something in his drink, but I desperately want to know if he remembers calling me by my name. My real name. Not slave. Not wildcat, though I kind of like the comparison. Not Linna, the mangled abbreviation I gave myself. Lianna.

He throws me a weird look, but shakes his head after a while. "Nothing. My head feels weird, almost like after taking the fear serum." He looks pensive for a second, as if he's deliberating with himself whether he should go on. "I think Jeanine might be behind whatever was in my drink last night, but there's no way to prove it. Not without running some tests, and I doubt she'll have been careless enough to use something that would show up in my blood after more than 12 hours."

Suddenly, yesterday's strange behaviour makes sense. I could kick myself for not thinking of it sooner, but then again it's a weird situation. Sitting here in the flat of a Dauntless leader, discussing how the leader of another faction potentially poisoned him, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.  
  
"But can you be absolutely sure of that? I think it's worth a shot, getting a blood test. You never know."

"I would, but now's not the time. There's some stuff I need to tell you." Eric doesn't look at me, his gaze focussed on the now empty coffee mug in his hands. "You'll probably have a lot of questions. But please give me a chance to explain before you try to strangle me."

It's the use of the word 'please' that makes the hair at the back of my neck stand up. Eric has been a lot more polite towards me lately, but 'please' is still a word I've rarely heard from him.

"It's not what I wanted to start with, but Jeanine is forcing my hand. It's about your family. They've been accused of treason. She wants them all executed by the end of the week."

I don't even feel the mug slipping from my fingers, the clatter of it breaking barely registering in my brain. "Why? What happened?"

"I'm not sure. Might have to do with me telling her once and for all that she won't get you back. Or you passing initiation. Or something else set her off. With that crazy bitch it's hard to tell."

"It's my fault." Self-hatred and despair rush over me in full force. A few minutes ago I was relaxed and happy. Now the only thing I can feel is darkness descending upon me.

"It's not." Eric's grey eyes are suddenly on me, their intensity grounding me, pulling me back to reality. "None of this is your fault. Jeanine makes her own rules and doesn't give shit about what's right or not. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm Divergent. None of this would have happened if it weren't for me."

"You can't change what you are. This isn't on you. Jeanine can't just go and flaunt all our laws simply because she's having a bad hair day. Crazy shit is happening and you're caught up in it. But it's not your fault. You didn't cause any of it. Besides, them being detained somewhere else before their trial is not the end of the world."

"Not the end of the world? That's my parents we're talking about." I try and fail to hold back the scream building in my throat. "How can you be so bloody indifferent? I get that you don't really care about me or that they're my family, but..."

"It's not the end of the world because we'll simply need to move faster with our plans than we originally anticipated." This shuts me up. "And I'm not even commenting on that other shit about not caring." He sounds almost angry when he says this.

"What plans?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "You're not here because I wanted a slave. You're here because we needed someone to help us start a revolution. Jeanine's lies have been going on for too long. She needs to be stopped."

"What- what are you talking about"

"There are people, lots of them, who are unhappy with the way things are going. Some didn't trust Jeanine from the beginning, some took a while to realise what she's capable of." He sounds almost wistful, staring at his hands as he speaks instead of looking at me.

"She's not doing her fucking job. Erudite are meant to work on advancing technology for the sake of all. But that's not what Jeanine is after. She's interested in power. Simply being on the Council isn't enough for her. Their endless discussions take too long and sometimes they don't agree with her. Having Divergents declared outlaws was one way for her to extend her power."

He delivers his statement in a cold and detached way. The reminder of what happened just a few years ago, the way our society was altered seemingly forever, brings a sour taste to my mouth. Again I want to rant about the unfairness, the randomness of it all, but I'm too curious about what Eric has to say.

"It's Erudite technology that exposes a Divergent, and it's their scientific data that declared them damaged and corrupt. Evelyn's rebellion was a convenient excuse for Jeanine to push through changes that wouldn't even have been considered before. I'm pretty sure there were at least some Council members who regretted their decision the moment it was made. But by then she had what she wanted, rule through fear." He scoffs, either amused or impressed by the strategy Jeanine has successfully employed. As far as I know he has taken quite a few pages from that book himself.

"The only thing she had to do to take her opponents down was to hint that they or their children might actually be Divergent. It didn't take long for even her most vocal critics to realise that she wasn't just making idle threats either. You probably don't remember, but there were quite a few Council members ousted on charges of Divergence soon after the changes."

Actually I do remember. One of the earliest victims of the changes was a high ranking member of Candor. His trial and subsequent execution sent a ripple through our faction that never fully healed.

"Thing is, we have proof that the research she used to convince the Council that Divergents are mentally unstable is fake. From what we know she's tampered with the data she presented. Some leading scientists she worked with disappeared right around the time of the changes and we haven't been able to locate any of them. Even so it took her quite a lot of work to get the entire Council to agree to outlaw part of our population. We'll make them change it back."

"We?"

"I've been working with a few people. Scott, Marc, Sam, Four, his buddy Zeke and a few others within Dauntless and Erudite. We've been smuggling out data from Erudite for months to build a case Candor could work with."

"Do you think Jeanine will agree to a trial at Candor? Or that Jack would even dare to go against her?"

"Jeanine will probably throw a fit or have stroke or something. But she won't have a choice. Even Max won't be able to protect her when I'm through with her." Something dark flickers over his face. "As for Jack, he's not the most proactive, but he won't ignore evidence presented to him. Whatever flaws he might have, I don't think he'll go against their manifesto."

"Truth makes us strong." We say it almost simultaneously. Eric with a hint of mockery, me a little wistfully.

"Bullshit. A lot of hard training and a gun in your hand makes you strong. But if it gets the courts to act I don't care whether they believe in truth fairies or some blind goddess."

I'm tempted to argue, to defend my old faction, to explain why it is that they value honesty above all else. But now is not the time. Instead I focus on another thing Eric told me.

"But how are you actually going to do it? I'm guessing your plan is a bit more elaborate than just sending Jeanine a court summon and hope she'll show up."

"Jeanine caused a lot of rifts, not just within the Council but in the factions as well. And as soon as those new rules about Divergents being declared slaves came into effect, people started working on circumventing them. Especially Abnegation-" Even the severity of our conversation can't stop a small smile from flickering over my face at the distaste in his voice when he says the name of his least favourite faction. "-couldn't wait to come up with ways to help Divergents escape. They've become quite creative at that as well, given that they are such rule sticklers."

My mind flashes back to the woman dressed in grey as she sends me hurrying from the testing centre, to the sad smile on her face as she mentions her lost daughter. I want to tell Eric about her, but I'm still not sure how he fits into all of this. There's no need to convince me that Jeanine is evil and needs to be stopped, no use in reminding me of things that have already happened and can't be changed.

"Why are you telling me this?" Much as I try to follow him, I'm confused.

"Because you're one big part in our plan to rid this city of Jeanine once and forever. We need her gone, but we also need these laws concerning Divergents changed again. Finding people to work against her was one thing, but it wasn't enough. We needed a Divergent." The look on his face is serious now, his posture more like the Dauntless leader I know.

"The plan was to find a Divergent who was strong enough to pass Dauntless initiation, and use them to prove to the Council that Divergence doesn't mean you can't belong somewhere. That your choices define you, not your DNA. Dauntless has always been the faction that placed the most reliance on the test. Somehow we think that being one of us requires a certain type of genetical make up. We had to disprove that. We'd place the Divergent with me, because nobody would bat an eye at me requesting a slave and then toying with them for my amusement. Jeanine hat been offering slaves to me for months. You seemed like you could make it, so I requested you."

My mind is reeling. Whatever I expected, this revelation of plots and strategies to overthrow a part of our government wasn't it. Thoughts are flying in my head and I latch on to the next best.

"What about her experiments? What do people say about those?" Eric suddenly looks uncomfortable, as if he doesn't like the direction our conversation is taking, but he answers my question without hesitation.

"The Council is aware some Divergents are brought to her, but they believe she's working on a cure. Most people don't know what she does to those that are delivered to her for research purposes.

My throat suddenly closes up. "You mean nobody knows she's conducting those experiments?"

He pauses for a moment, looking straight at me. "Only those working with and directly for her know of the extend."

"Did you know?"

"I did, some of it." I can see regret in his eyes, but right now I'm not sure I'm interested.

"You knew what she'd do to me and still handed me over."

"Yes. I had to, to make it believable." Again there's no sugar-coating, no excuses to make the truth hurt less. He believes I'm strong enough to handle it, but this is all I can take for now. He doesn't try to stop me when I get up an slowly walk back into the bedroom. My hands are shaking from the effort of not slamming the door shut behind me. Instead I make sure it closes with a quiet click.

This morning's revelations were too much for me. My family up for trial and potential execution. Eric apparently working against Jeanine the whole time. Me being part of a plan to get rid of her once and for all. I should be happy, should be ecstatic that there are things in motion that might change everything. But for now I can't get over the fact that Eric willingly handed me over to Erudite to be tortured. Somehow, this feels worse than everything he has ever done to me himself. I lay on the bed face down and scream into my pillow.

  
\---------

  
Some time alone helps me work through Eric's logic. I understand why he acted the way he did. He didn't know me, he wasn't interested in me as a person. Only in what I could do for him and his team of co-conspirators. I'm nowhere near to forgive him, but to my surprise his betrayal weighs a lot less heavy than what Magnus did to me. At some point I really need to figure out the myriads of conflicting emotions I have towards Eric. I think I already know where they're headed, but I'm not ready to admit that to myself just yet.

My eyes are dry when I walk back into the living room. I screamed until my throat hurt, but I think I've run out of tears some time ago. Maybe Dauntless really made me stronger. It's a comforting thought at least.

Eric looks at me expectantly with a hint of unease as I sit down next to him again.

"Should I be worried that you decided against attacking me outright?"

"Scared I might still kill you in your sleep?"

"Hey, I trained you. I know what you're capable of, even if you try very hard to hide it." Even though I don't want it to, his comment brings a small smile to my lips.

"Compliments won't get you anywhere, Dauntless. I'm still mad at you." But I don't even know myself if the word mad actually captures what I feel. "Let me hear the rest of that crazy plan you've been working on."

"Right. Obviously I couldn't tell you any of this when you first came here. You needed to pass initiation, and there were too many opportunities for Jeanine to pick up on us. Especially during fear simulations. If I hadn't shown up in your sims it would've painted a big fat mark on our back that something wasn't right." He throws me a look that's a mixture of pride and exasperation. "That didn't quite go as planned though. So Four had to alter some of your sims and sneak me into them."

Suddenly another piece of the puzzle falls into place. "So that's why they changed. I was wondering why they got easier."

"Easier?" He sounds almost insulted.

"Yeah, I mean, I knew I wasn't afraid of you. So I wondered why you kept showing up. Because the only thing that happened when you were in one of my fears was that I realised a lot quicker that I was in a sim. That made them so much easier to beat."

"I think you might be the only person in this faction who thinks their fears get easier to handle when I'm in them."

"Just shows that you need to get better at attracting the smart ones too then, doesn't it?"

"Careful. Insulting Dauntless in front of one of its leaders might not go well for you." There is laughter in his eyes as he says it. I just shrug.

"Heard that one before. Still doesn't work."

"It was worth a try." He sends me a wink.

I take a deep breath. "Just so you know, I get why you didn't tell me earlier. And why you handed me over in the first place. I don't like it, but I get it."

"We do not believe in living comfortable lives." I'm not quite sure whether he intends for me to hear him quietly quote the Dauntless manifesto. "I did what I thought was necessary."

"I know."

We're both quiet for a while.

"You know that I won't be able to stand by and let her kill my family, right?"

"I know. I wouldn't expect you to."

I briefly close my eyes, steeling myself for the hardest question of my life. I hope that I know what his answer will be, but I can't be sure.

"Will you help me?"

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our story is slowly heading towards its climax. I promise more action in the following chapters, but some groundwork had to be established first. Hope you enjoyed it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Monsters are real](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17323898) by [VeniViciVetinari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniViciVetinari/pseuds/VeniViciVetinari)




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